


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



V 




HLDSON- AND THE INDIAN CHIEFS. 



DISCOVERERS 



riO^EEIiS OF AMERICA 



7?Vu5 H 



^F^rr A a K E R 



N E W YORK: 
DKliBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU ST. 

CINCINNATI :— U. W. DKHUY. 

J 850. 



E 1"57 



Entkbks iMcording to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 
DERBY & JACKSON, 

10 tha Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. 



\V. 11. TiKsoN, Steveotj-per, Pudney 4 Rcssell. P;; 



^^ ran liJtlru, 

WHOSE LOVE WAS AND m 

A S^ EET. MORNING LIGHT OF LIFE, 

ffiMs Tolume 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 

BY HKK 

DAtTGHTEB. 



PREFACE. 



The planet that heralds the sunrise, may be a volcanic 
waste, like the moon, or scathed with the fires of sin, like 
the earth ; and so the morning stars of heroism, that guided 
and illumined the first advances of a noon-day civilization to 
this Western World, were not all as cultivated and pure as 
those followers of the one " bright and morning Star," who 
colonized the shores of Plymouth and the banks of the 
Delaware. Whoever was illustrious, for any reason, in the 
early history of America, may be included in the number ; 
and some of the most promiment of these, particularly they 
who may represent different portions of North America, 
have been selected as subjects of the following sketches. A 
number of characters, deserving an equal place with some 
of those now chosen, were omitted for want of room. 

Tlie author trusts that the bringing of them together in 
one volume, is a plan that offers the novel interest of a close 
comparison of each character with the others, and one that 
has been carried out with all the fidelity which an examina- 



VI PREFACE. 

tion of Colonial chronicles in the libraries of New- York, can 
ensure. Some of the sketches, such as those of Lady Ara- 
bella Johnson and Miles Standish, claim to be more complete 
than any existing ones — at least, of like brevity. 

To reproduce the scenes and present the scenery of distant 
times and places, so as to make them realities to the reader, 
recourse has been had to several elaborate works on geograr 
phy, science and costume, and books of modern travel. A 
simple regard to truth, and not an indulgence in fancy and 
exaggeration for popular effect, has been the cherished rule 
in preparing this unpretending volume. 



CONTENTS. 



I. 

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 

PA8& 

Genoa. — Columbus a Student. — A Sailor. — N^avigation. — A Por- 
trait. — Columbus' Theory. — A learned Assembly. — A Tra- 
veler. — Convent. — Friars. — Cordova. — Disappointment. — A 
Kingly Suppliant. — Bigoted Philosophers. — La Rabida. — The 
Spanish Court at Grenada. — Isabella's noble Decision. — 
Alarm at Palos. — Voyage. — Perils. — Superstition. — Tlie first 
Glimpse of the New World. — Landing. — Columbus a Prince. 
— Search for the Grand Khan. — Shipwreck. — Nina Alone. — 
Arrest in the Island Chapel. — ^Arrival at Palos. — Excitement. 
Princely Reception. — Superiority of Genius. — Second Voyage. 
— "Lord of the Golden House." — Mysterious Fate of a Col- 
ony. — Cavalier "Workmen. — Seai'ch for Gold. — Columbus' 
Temptation. — Persecution. — A Cruise. — Three Brothers. — 
Captive Cacique. — Return Voyage. — Forlorn Crew. — Colum- 
bus a Friar. — Third Voyage. — The Orinoco. — Rebels of His- 
paniola. — Injustice. — An Upstart's Sceptre. — Columbus in 
Chains. — Indignation. — Columbus' Triumph in the Alham- 
bra. — Fourth Voyage. — Return and Disappointment. — Old 
Age and Death. — Character 13 



Vin CONTENTS. 

II. 

AMERICUS VESPUCIUS. 

PAOB. 

His Birth. — Florence. — The Convent. — The Plague. — Vespu- 
eius' Pursuits. — Duplicity of Bishop Fonseea. — Disputed Voy- 
age. — Beauty of the New World. — Centaurs. — ^An Epicurean 
Race. — " City of Bridges." — Indians Enslaved. — Return to 
Cadiz. — Marriage. — Voj^age. — Eccentric Companions. — Paria. 
— Grotesque Customs. — Vegetable Houses and Umbrellas. — 
Giants. — San Domingo. — Cargo of Slaves. — Return to Spain. 
— Americus in Portugal. — "Land of Pearls." — Luxuriant 
Scenery. — Patriarchs. — Triumph of Science. — " Canope" of 
the South. — Tempest. — Reception at Lisbon. — Americus hon- 
ored. — Commands a Fleet. — Shipwreck. — Mariners in Brazil. 
— ^Americus in Spain. — Ferdinand and Fonseea. — Disappoint- 
ment. — Death. — Unknown Grave. — His Character. — Disputed 
Fame 66 



III. 

FERDINAND DE SOTO. 

Furor of Discovery. — Youth of De Soto. — He embarks for the 
Indies. — Joins Pizarro. — Horsemanship. — Atahualpa. — Death. 
— De Soto's Reproaches. — His Wealth. — Return to Spain. — 
Magnificent Display. — Noble Marriage. — Governor of Flori- 
da. — Expensive Fleet. — Southern Scenery. — A Pocahontas. — 
Slaver}'. — Difficult Exploration. — Treachery. — Famine. — 
Indian Queen. — Obstinacy of De Soto. — Proud Cacique. — Bat- 
tle. — Fire. — Discovery of the Mississippi. — Indian Fleet. — 
"Son of the Sun." — The Cacique Foes. — De Soto a Peace- 
maker. — A Troop of Laplanders. — Second Encampment. — 
Famine and Desolation. — De Soto's Disappointment. — His 
Death. — Midnight Burial. — Return of his Followers to Spain. 
— Character of De Soto lOS 



CONTENTS. IX 

TV. 

SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

PASS. 

Raleigh's Character. — Youth. — Military Pursuits. — His Intellec- 
tual Industry. — Exploits in Ireland. — His Personal Attrac- 
tions. — ^Anecdote of Queen Elizabeth. — Raleigh a Courtier. — 
Enriched. — Equips a Fleet. — Virginia, — Raleigh a Knight. — 
Prepares a Second Expedition. — Roanoke. — Introduction of 
Tobacco. — Anecdotes. — A City Founded. — Desolation of Ro- 
anoke. — First Birth and Baptism in Virginia — Reinforce- 
ment fails. — Fate of the Colony. — Raleigh a Hero. — A Rival 
Appears. — Rustication. — A Poet. — Restoration to Royal Fa- 
vor. — Expedition to Panama. — Return to England. — Impris- 
onment. — Marriage. — Membership of Parliament. — Expedi- 
tion to Guiana. — Search for El Dorado. — Return. — General 
Contempt. — Action at Cadiz. — The Rivals at Fayal. — The Ri- 
vals at Court. — Irish Estates. — The Potato. — Raleigh in "Sol- 
omon's" Court. — Arrest. — The Trial. — The Tower. — A Wife's 
Devotion. — Twelve Years' Imprisonment. — Guiana. — "Pira- 
tas !" — Solitary Imprisonment. — A Tyrant. — Death Warrant. 
— ^Execution. — Carew Raleigh 18Y 



V. 

HENRY HUDSON. 

Navigation. — Diminutive Fleet. — Crimson Snow. — Crystal Ar- 
chitecture. — Flowers. — Icebergs. — An Escape. — Second Voy- 
age. — Midnight Sun. — A Mermaid. — Nova Zembla. — Return 
to England. — The Half Moon. — Savages. — Grapes of EsehoL 
— Jersey Shore. — Dutch Craft and Costume — Indian Tradition 
— Manhattan. — The great River. — The Highlands and Pali- 
sades. — Captives. — Magical Mountains. — Puzzled Dutchmen. 
— a Drunken Chief. — A Battle. — Return to England. — Third 
Voyage. — Iceland. — Fantastic Fountains. — Profligates. — Jap- 
anese Icebergs. — An Ice-locked Ship. — Hudson's Straits and 
Bay. — A Labyrinth. — A Northern Winter. — Famine. — Muti- 
ny. — a Judas. — ^A Noble Spirit. — Cruel Fate of Hudson. — Re- 
tribution. — Character of Hudson 206 



Z CONTENTS. 

VI. 

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

PAGS. 

His Character. — Birth. — "Wanderings. — A Highland Friend. — 
Smith a Soldier. — ^A Courtier. — An Adonis. — A Hermit. — A 
Traveler. — A Jonah. — A Crusoe. — A Pirate. — Smith in Italy. 
— Turkey. — Knightly Combat. — Thrice a Victor. — Splendid 
Reward. — Smith a Slave. — He Escapes. — His Benefactress.— 
Travels in Europe and Africa. — A new field of Adventure. — 
American City Founded. — An Expedition. — Treachery. — An 
Indian Shield. — Smith a Captive. — Powhattan's Palace. — Po- 
cahontas. — Smith's Power. — Coronation in the Forest. — Smith 
a President. — His Success. — An effective Cure. — ^An Acci- 
dent. — He Returns to England. — An Expedition. — ^A Prison- 
er. — Escape. — Pocahontas' Grief and Death. — Captain Smith's 
Last Years and Death 249 

vn. 

CAPTAIN MILES STANDISH. 

Standish and the Pilgrims. — His Ancestors. — Exiles in Holland. 
Providential Choice. — The Departure. — A Forest Home. — 
Desolation. — Indian Mounds. — A Skirmish. — ^The first Sab- 
bath. — A new Leyden. — Afflictions. — Death of Rose. — Mili- 
tia Training. — ^A Scene. — ^An Indian King. — An Exploit. — 
Courtship. — Standish in the "Meeting-house." — Evil over- 
come with Good. — ^An "Eye for an Eye." — A boastful Gi- 
ant — Standish's Intrepidity. — His Honors. — ^His Home. — 
Scenery of Duxbury. — Death of Captain Standish. — His De- 
scendants. — ^Memorials. — Last of the Pilgrims 275 

Yin. 

LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 

A Contrast. — Sherwood Forest. — Lincoln Family. — ^Home. — A 
Pioua Mother. — Death of the Earl. — Person and Character of 



CONTENTS. XI 

PAGE. 

Arabella. — Mr. Johnson. — Marriage. — The Pilgrims. — Devo- 
tion of a Wife. — Preparations for Emigration. — Feast. — Em- 
barkation. — Salem. — A Primitive Feast. — Disappointment 
Consoled. — Dark Prospects. — Illness of Lady Arabella. — Her 
Death. — Mr. Johnson's Grief. — Death and Burial. — A Colony 
in Mourning. — Spirit of the Pilgrims 804 



IX. 

JOHN ELIOT. 

"Apostle of the Indians." — Birth. — Education. — Emigration. — 
An Infant Colony.*— Eliot's Mai-riage. — Temperate Habits. — 
Ludicrous Legislation. — Anecdote. — Eliot in Trouble. — Wo- 
man's Rights. — First American Book. — Diffusion of Chris- 
tianity. — Indian Language. — Castle-building. — Preaching in 
the Wilderness. — Effect. — ^A Christian Village. — "Praying 
Indians." — Shrewd Questions. — A Powaw. — Eliot's Industry. 
— Jehu. — A Tradition. — Civilized Indians. — Natick. — The 
Old Dispensation Revived. — ^An Angel. — Indian Testament. 
— Difficulties. — A Striking Illustration. — Forest Travels. — 
Indian Students. — Trial of Faith. — Old Age. — Eliot a Re- 
former. — ^A Beautiful Picture. — Death 321 



X. 

WILLIAM PENN. 

Pennwood and its Occupants. — Birth and Childhood of Penn. 
— Anecdotes. — Education. — A Quaker Preacher. — Penn Ex- 
pelled from College. — Family Scenes. — Trip to Paris. — Penn's 
Accomplishments. — ^The Quakers. — The Admiral's Temper. — 
A Noble Mother. — Penn in the Tower. — His Second Arrest. — 
Trial and Imprisonment. — Persecuted Jurymen. — The Admi- 
ral's Chagrin. — Death. — Penn's Rank and Wealth. — Its Em- 
ployment. — Gulielma. — Marriage. — Occupations. — His Tour 



XU COKTENTS. 

PAQK. 

through Holland and Germany. — Princess of the Rhine. — 
Graef of Falchensteyn. — Return to England. — Interview 
with King Charles. — The Welshman. — Pennsylvania. — Emi- 
gration. — Scenery of the Delaware. — Indian Reception. — 
"Father Onas" and the Famous Treaty. — Memorials. — A 
Forest Mansion. — "City of Brotherly Love." — Penn in the 
English Court. — In Prison. — Accumulation of Trouble. — 
Death of Gulielma. — Marriage. — Czar of Muscovy. — Penn 
and his Family in America. — Reception of " Father Onas." — 
Slavery. — Penn's Farewell. — Fleet Prison. — Old Age. — Death. 
A Contrast.— An Eulogy. 368 



!i$i:o&ertn anJr f ioiuu's of 3.maitiL 



I. 

COLUMBUS. 



Upon tlie shores of the Mediterranean and at the 
base of the Appenines, rises the city of Genoa. It 
sweeps in a semi-circle over an extent of four leagues, 
is encompassed by a double range of fortifications, 
and throws itg arms — two gigantic moles — far out 
upon the bay which it overlooks. A lighthouse of 
immense proportions towers up from a steep rock at 
the extremity of one of them. 

The high, narrow streets, and the ingenious culti- 
vation of gardens and groves upon the housetops, to- 
gether with the simplicity of life and independence 
of opinion prevalent among the inhabitants, is all 
that now distinguishes it from the other palaced cities 
of Italy ; though in power and activity of commerce 
it formerly rivaled Yenice. This city of Genoa, in 



14 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

the days of its commercial vigor, was the birth-placo 
of Columbus. 

Domenico Columbo, a poor Genoese wool-comber, 
and his wife, Susannah Fontanarossa, were the pa- 
rents of the illustrious Columbo, who was born about 
the year 1435. He was the oldest of four children. 
Bartholomew and Giacomo, his two brothers, appear 
in history, but of his one sister, little or nothing is 
known. 

Although restricted to narrow means, his parents 
succeeded in providing him at an early age with 
sources of knowledge that quickly developed his 
youthful genius. His father, perceiving the readi- 
ness with which he applied himself to his studies, and 
noting his fondness for geography and whatever per- 
tained to a sea-faring life, determined, with good sense 
not to make a wool-comber of Columbus, notwith- 
standing his ancestors for several generations had 
adhered to the trade. To afford him an education 
suitable to a maritime life, he sent him to the Uni- 
versity of Pavia ; but Columbus remained there only 
long enough to acquire the rudiments of history and 
science. 

Pavia, " the city of a hundred towers," is an inland 
town, distinguished for its Universities. Its dis- 
tance from the sea-board, and its overflow of learned 
professors instead of mariners, may have repulsed 
Columbus. Accustomed to a home between the 
mountains and the sea, where he could look far off 
upon the waters that had an indefinable mvsterv and 



COLUMBUS. 15 

attraction for him, and having roved freely among 
the crowded shipping in the harbor, learned to trim 
and shift the sails or climb the ropes, and daily hear- 
ing the exciting accounts of newly-discovered lands, 
or perilous adventures of the sailors, his ardent imagi- 
nation received a check in abandoning all this and 
adopting a university life between stone walls, and a 
weary plodding among books that his boyish ardor 
and impatience to begin a nautical life, could not en- 
dure. Whether influenced by such reasons, or in con- 
sequence of his father's inability to support him, he 
remained but a short time at Pavia. 

Thrown upon his own resources, Columbus began, 
at fourteen, the career which was to win for him im- 
mortal fame. Though poor and obscure, he was rich 
in energy, perseverance, and a lofty, noble spirit, and 
no doubt had already acquired a valuable store of 
knowledge in regard to his favorite pursuit, since 
from childhood his mind had been wholly absorbed 
in it. It is supposed that, soon after leaving the uni- 
versity, he accompanied a distant relative, named 
Columbo, upon his adventurous voyages. Columbo 
was an old and experienced captain, somewhat dis- 
tinguished for his bravery, and much more for his 
warlike and wandering propensities, being " always 
ready to undertake the settlement of his neighbor's 
quarrels." 

The first voyage of Columbus mentioned in the an- 
cient chronicles, was made in 1459, with this veteran, 
weather-beaten captain, in an expedition under the 



16 DISCOVEEERS AJJD P10NEEK3 OF AMEPJCA. 

colors of Anjou, agaiust Naples. The struggle con- 
tinued four years, during which Columbus was at one 
time appointed to a separate command and sent on a 
hazardous enterprise to the port of Tunis. The har- 
dihood and resolution he exhibited promised his 
future greatness. Some of the years succeeding this 
expedition were spent, so far as can be ascertained, 
in voyaging with a nephew of the old captain, so 
famous as a corsair that his very name was a terror. 
Piracy was then a profession. The Mediterranean 
was a vast battle-plain ; not even a merchant ship ex- 
pected to cross it without an engagement. The lim- 
ited space to which navigation was confined, was a 
highway of desperadoes and brave adventurers, who 
sought distinction in war, discovery, crime, or pious 
expeditions. 

The Portuguese, during these years, had outvied 
every other nation in the enterprise and spirit with 
which they prosecuted discoveries. Under the gui- 
dance of Prince Henry, the African coast was ex- 
plored, and Cape Bajador doubled — events which 
did much towards divesting the mariners of the su- 
perstitions which prevented them from cruising out 
of sight of land-marks. Before this, it had been their 
firm belief that whoever passed Cape Bajador would 
never return. The fame of these daring enterprises 
rang through the world and gave rise to the most ex- 
travagant hopes. Rumors of beautiful islands far out 
at sea, the revived opinions and fancies of the ancients, 
and stories of a golden land, excited the imaginations 



COLUMBUS. lY 

of voyagers, till, in every cloud that hovered in the 
horizon, they beheld an island or the shores of the 
famed Cipango. Mariners flocked to a country whose 
prince devoted himself to the maritime arts, and wil- 
lingly manned the ships that floated in scores from 
the shores of Portugal, in search of new and strange 
regions. With the rest went Columbus, not driven 
there by shipwreck, as related by historians, but, ac- 
cording to the researches of Irving, attracted by the 
spirit of enterprise shown by a generous prince. 

Columbus arrived in Portugal about the year 1470, 
and in the full vigor of manhood. He is described 
as being " tall, well-formed and muscular, and of an 
elevated and dignified demeanor. His visage was 
long, and neither full nor meagre ; his complexion 
fair and freckled and inclined to ruddy ; his nose 
aquiline, his cheek bones were rather high, his eyes 
light grey and apt to enkindle; his whole counte- 
nance had an air of authority. His hair, in his youth- 
ful days, was of a light color, but care and trouble 
soon turned it grey, and at thirty years of age it was 
quite white." 

Thus we see Columbus treading the narrow, tor- 
tuous streets of Lisbon, engaging in courteous but 
grave converse with strangers, eloquently arguing 
with his fellow-mariners, as if inspired, or kneeling in 
the cathedral and worshiping God with a pious and 
solemn enthusiasm that entered into all the acts of 
his life. The chapel of the Convent of All Saints was 

2 



18 DISCO VKKTCRS AND PIONEKRS OF A^ttERICA. 

his chief resort ; there he met Dona Felipa, a lady of 
rank, but without fortune, who resided in the convent. 
Their frequent meetings in the chapel resulted in a 
mutual attachment and marriage, and the home of 
the bride's mother became theirs. Her deceased 
father had been governor of the island of Porto Santo, 
and was highly distinguished as a navigator. All his 
charts, maps, and journals, the result of his frequent 
voyages and long experience, were placed in the 
hands of Columbus — a valuable acquisition, as he 
thus became master of a complete account of all the 
Portuguese discoveries. His magnanimity of spirit 
and gentle courtesy won the confidence of his mother- 
imlaw ; she appreciated his enthusiasm and progres- 
sive mind, and willingly conceded to him the wealth 
of her husband's manuscriiJi: stores, together with all 
she could relate of his voyages. 

He frequently sailed in expeditions to the coast of 
Africa. "While thus traversing the seas, he revolved 
and diligently studied the various theories of the 
learned of ancient, as well as of his own, times. His 
genius grasped the most enlightened views ; he be- 
came impatient at the close and timid explorations to 
which he was confined. He looked longingly at the 
vast and unknown expanse of the Atlantic, and would 
already have swept boldly over it and plunged fear- 
lessly into its distant mysteries, could he have manned 
his pioneering vessel. The ocean was still regard- 
ed with fear and superstition ; the masses yet be- 



COLUMBUS. 19 

lieved that only fire and demons, and overwhelming 
surges forever and frightfully boilingj existed beyond 
the visible horizon. 

The impulse which the enlightened Prince Henry 
had given to discovery, gradually subsided after his 
death. During the reign of Alphonso, the wars with 
Spain absorbed the enthusiasm and enterprise of the 
nation. Columbus was alone in the vast dreams his 
giant mind revolved during the years that followed. 
He never lost sight of his one fixed purpose. He 
studied the lore of the past, he speculated and ex- 
plored, and he finally ventured beyond the beaten 
track, sailed over the northern seas and touched upon 
the coast of Iceland. This served to strengthen and 
confirm his views, which each day unfolded more 
clearly. From the chaos of superstition, of rumor 
and imperfect science, he drew forth a theory that 
stamped him a crazed enthusiast in the eyes of his 
cotemporaries. He believed that the earth is a ter- 
raqueous globe, and that by sailing to the west he 
would reach the extremity of Asia, or some interven- 
ing land, which would prove to be the famed Cipan- 
go, or Mangi, the country of the fabled Khan and his 
magnificent empire. 

Having arrived at this conviction, he was firm as a 
rock. Neither the laugh nor jeers of the crowd, nor 
the ridicule of men of science, could move him one 
jot from his strong position. His spirit was too lofty 
and too deeply imbued with religious fervor, his pur- 
pose too grand, to be cried down by taunts or unbe- 



20 DISC0VEEER3 AND PIOl!fEEIlS OF AMERICA. 

lief. He already descried the New World, and be- 
held in himself its honored herald ; he found his 
intended discoveries darkly foretold by the inspired 
writers, and he pondered upon the supposed prophe- 
cies, till he regarded himself with a respect that im- 
parted imposing dignity and loftiness to his demeanor. 
He did not desire a private expedition. He wished 
the preparations and rewarding dignities to be on an 
equal scale with his design — such as kings alone 
could undertake. Years passed, therefore, before 
propitious events opened the way. 

Upon the accession of John H. to the throne of 
Portugal, a new impetus was given to discovery. 
Eager to prosecute Prince Henry's design of find- 
ing a new route to India, and sharing the advan- 
tages of eastern commerce, now monoj)olized by Italy, 
he assembled the most learned men in the kingdom, 
to devise some means by which navigation could have 
a wider scope. The application of the quadrant to 
navigation was the result. This promise of an ocean- 
guide, which would lessen the fears of mariners ven- 
turing upon unknown waters, inspired Columbus 
with new hopes. He immediately sought an audi- 
ence with the king. 

John II. generously encouraged nautical enterprise, 
and was therefore a ready listener to the views and 
plans of a man already noted as a navigator, and 
famous for his singular enthusiasm. Sti^ck with his 
bold ideas, his calm conviction, and the accordance 
with his own liberal views, he referred the matter to 



COLUMBUS. 21 

a select council of scientific men. They quickly re- 
jected it as absurd and visionary. Dissatisfied with 
this decision, the king conferred with an assemblage 
of men of the deepest research and learning in the 
kingdom. Influenced by the opposition of the nar- 
row-minded Cazadilla, the Bishop of Cueva, and fear- 
ful of drawing npon themselves the ridicule of all the 
world, they, too, condemned the plan^- of Columbus 
as extravagant. Still there were those in the assem- 
bly who were unwilling to lose an opportunity that 
might redound to the fame of Portugal. They wil- 
lingly acceeded to a wily scheme of Bishop Cazadilla, 
and, upon a pretense of further deliberation, obtained 
from Columbus the charts upon which was traced the 
proposed route. A small vessel was secretly fitted 
out and sent upon the voyage, with the intention to 
forestall the great suggester, or, in case of failure, 
to escape the odium and ridicule they feared to brave 
in an open expedition, that would at once be pro- 
nounced chimerical by the world. After a few days' 
cruise to the westward, the caravel returned to Lis- 
bon, its crew frightened at the wondrous expanse of 
ocean and the stormy waves that threatened to sink 
them. They covered their cowardice by ridiculing 
Columbus. 

All this time Columbns was waiting in painful sus- 
pense for the final decision of the learned council 
Noble, free, and high-minded himself, he had no sus- 
picion of the deception being practiced upon him. 
"When the vessel arrived, and a burst of derision 



22 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

storming upon him from every quarter, gave him the 
first intimation of the duplicity of those in whom he 
had confided, he turned from them with a deep and 
bitter indignation that would brook no apology. The 
king still regarded his project with favor, but the 
more than kingly Columbus scornfully rejected an- 
other conference, and, taking with him his young son, 
Diego, turned his back upon Portugal. 

His wife was no longer living, and her small inher- 
itance had been gradually expended. He found him- 
self almost beggared, a homeless wanderer, a despised 
adventurer. From the court of Lisbon to his native 
Genoa, from Genoa to the royalty of Yenice, he pain- 
fully journeyed, everywhere meeting rebuffs and 
smiles of commiseration. The white-haired man, 
leading the little child, was pointed out with wonder 
at his strange theories, admiration of his loftly bear- 
ing, and pity for his wasted genius. He bore it all 
in silence, and still, with undaunted courage, traveled 
on. He defied the combined wisdom of the world, 
he fearlessly faced poverty, and his soul rose above 
those who harshly wounded him. 

At length, he induced his brother, Bartholomew, 
to sail for England, and lay his plans before Henry 
YIL, while he himself left for Spain, after visiting his 
father and assisting him with his scanty means. He 
arrived at Palos and set out on foot to visit his wife's 
sister, no doubt with the intention of leaving with her 
the young Diego, whom he still led on his slow and 
painful journeys. The first day of his humble trav- 




colujmbus and the monks. 



Pftsre'SS. 



coll'jIdus. 23 

els in Spain, he arrived, weary and disheartened, be- 
fore the gate of a convent belonging to Franciscan 
friars, known then, and now, as the Convent of La Rab- 
ida. It stood upon a solitary height overlooking the 
sea coast, and was partially shaded by a grove of 
pines. Attracted by the cool and grateful shade, and 
hoping to obtain a crust of bread and some water for 
his hungry child, he knocked at the gate. 

The guardian of the convent, Juan Peres, happen- 
ing to perceive the stranger, was struck with his no- 
ble countenance, and immediately entered into con- 
versation with him. He became deeply interested 
in Columbus, detained him as his guest, and listened 
with lively sympathy to his hopes and his long-frus- 
trated plans. Father Peres was an enlightened, intel- 
ligent man, and somewhat skilled in nautical lore ; 
he comprehended the vast project thus laid before 
him, and, full of lively interest in the newly-unfold- 
ed theory, he sent for the physician of Paios, a man 
versed in science, to converse with him. Gradually, 
one and another of the old mariners of Palos gathered 
to listen and wonder at the strange proposals. The 
friars in their dark cowls, the weather-beaten pilots, 
and veteran captains of Palos, were grouped about 
Columbus, within the convent walls, while he elo- 
quently poured forth his convictions, every feature in 
his face glowing with high enthusiasm. They caught 
his fervor, asserted their belief in his theory, and re- 
lated all in their own experience that would support 
his views. Martin Alonzo Pinzon, a captain of intel- 



24- DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA, 

ligeoce, energy, strong resolution, generous senti- 
ments, and tlie possessor of wealth and influence, 
boldly approved the enterprise of Columbus, and 
pledged his purse and person to his service. 

In the exhilaration and excitement that prevailed 
in the convent councils, plans vp-ere speedily formed 
and put into execution. The guardian undertook the 
charge and education of the youthful Diego, and the 
generous Pinzon furnished Columbus with means to 
repair to the court of Ferdinand, to obtain the coun- 
tenance and assistance of the crown. Furnished with 
letters to Talavera, the queen's confessor, Columbus 
set out with a glad heart, encouraged and grateful to 
God, whose providence had led him to the solitary 
and hospitable La Rabida. 

The court of Ferdinand and Isabella had lately as- 
sembled at Cordova, and thither Columbus directed 
nis steps. Upon his arrival, he found the city a 
scene of active preparations for war. The streets 
were gay with magnificently equipped cavaliers and 
their long retinues ; the court was crowded with val- 
iant warriors and grandees of Spain, who had already 
won distinction in the Moorish wars. Preparations 
were being made on a grand scale for a new cam- 
paign against Grenada. All the dignitaries of Spain 
— the archbishop, the grand cardinal, even Talavera, 
the counselor and corifessor of the queen, were equally 
absorbed in the one theme of the holy war. How 
was the poor obscure Columbus to be heard in the 
midst of busy politicians and the accumulated dig- 



C0Lu:>rBrs. 



nity, pomposity and bigotry of learned dmrchmen, 
and where the din of approaching war devoured every 
other interest ? 

It was impossible to .obtain an audience of the 
sovereigns, already overwhelmed with pressing de- 
mands. He could but quietly deliver his letter to 
Talavera and briefly state his plans, which were at 
once regarded as extravagant and impossible, by the 
haughty and bigoted man who, to the end, stood cold 
and impervious as a rock, between Columbus and the 
king, whose aid he sought. Before anything had been 
effected towards an interview, Ferdinand had depart- 
ed with his splendid army for the Moorish dominions. 
Columbus remained unheeded in Cordova, unable to 
gain access to the queen, who, with the administra- 
tion of two governments to conduct, had no leisure 
to receive one whose powers and whose projects were 
disparaged by her most reliable adviser. 

Although disappointed and disheartened, Columbus 
schooled his impatience and prepared slower, but 
more effective, means, to accomplish his purpose. 
He earned a scanty support by making maps and 
charts, and seized upon every opportunity to commu- 
nicate with the influential and powerful. Whoever 
listened to his eloquent discourse was struck with the 
force of his reasoning, the dignity of his demeanor, 
and the nobility of his countenance, though the su- 
percilious and the ignorant derided his attempts to 
gain the cooperation of kings. " He would seek the . 
royal presence," said they, noting his homely garb 



26 DISCOVERERS AND PI02fEEES OF AMERICA. 

and remeraberiug his humble birth, as they pointed 
him out with scorn. Years afterwards, they would 
have gloried in a single glance from his calm, pene- 
trating eye. 

The summer and autumn of 1486 wore away pain- 
fully to one whose every hour was precious, and upon 
whose life depended the immediate loss or gain of a 
continent. "With the wonderful perseverance and un- 
tiring assiduity for which he was so remarkable, he 
succeeded during those months in gaining the atten- 
tion of a few men of intelligence, who became his 
warm advocates. Alonzo de Quintanilla, comptroller 
of the finances of Castile, and the brothers Geraldini, 
one of them the pope's nuncio, the other a preceptor 
to the children of the sovereigns, rendered him kind 
and important assistance. 

After a successful and brilliant campaign, Ferdi- 
nand returned to his own dominions, and the court 
repaired to Salamanca for a winter residence. At 
the head of the dignitaries of Spain, and foremost 
among the king's counselors, was the grand cardinal 
Mendoza, a man of fine abilities, strong mind and 
quick perceptions. Next to the sovereigns, he was 
the most important personage in Spain. To him, Co- 
lumbus was presented by his newly- found friends. 
The cardinal listened with surprise and profound at- 
tention to the clear exposition of his novel, yet simple, 
theory. His able and comprehensive mind apprecia- 
ted the whole at a glance ; he gave his decisive ap- 
proval, promptly recommended the project to the no- 



COLUMBUS. 



9,7 



tice of Ferdinand and Isabella, and obtained their 
consent to an audience. 

Again Columbus stood in the rojal presence, not 
as a crouching supplicant of favor — nor with the bold 
front of an impudent adventurer ; he, the poor Gen- 
oese, came to offer the gift of an explored ocean and 
a IS'ew World, and, with such a gift in his hand, he 
felt as kingly as the monarch before whom he proudly 
stood. The unassumed simplicity and grandeur of his 
mien were the outward manifestations of a lofty spirit, 
which the most envious courtier might in vain at- 
tempt to imitate. He felt himself " animated as if 
by a sacred fire from above," as he afterwards as- 
serted, yet he spoke with a calm self-possession that 
carried conviction with his words. 

The cautious and subtle Ferdinand readily appre- 
ciated the character of Columbus, and perceived that 
his project was based upon scientific grounds ; he was 
ambitious to rival the Portuguese in discoveries, and 
secure to his kingdom the glory and the wealth prom- 
ised by such an acquisition, yet he was too wary and 
prudent of his fame to venture it in an uncertain en- 
terprise. He decided to refer the matter to a scien- 
tific body. Talavera, who heartily despised the inno- 
vations which the unlearned son of a wool-comber 
would presume to make in the long-established theo- 
ries of wise men, was obliged, nevertheless, to assem- 
ble the ablest astronomers and cosmographers in the 
kingdom, to deliberate upon the matter. 

The council met at Salamanca, in the convent of 



23 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

St. Stephen, where Columbus was sumptuously en- 
tertained. He now regarded the fulfillment of his 
hopes as beyond a doubt, since he was to appear be- 
fore a body of enlightened men who could readily 
comprehend his theory. Professors of the university, 
grave functionaries of the church, and learned monks 
who had devoted their whole lives to erudition, were 
gathered in the convent hall to listen to the eloquent 
appeals, and judge the cause of a man, against whom 
almost every one was prejudiced. They stubbornly 
entrenched themselves behind arguments as pompous 
and dark as the stately and sombre robes in which 
they were enveloped. The unostentatious mariner 
and his clear, simple statements, were looked upon 
with disdain. 

" Is there any one so foolish," was quoted by one, 
from a sage, . '• as to believe that there are antipodes 
with their feet opposite to ours ; people who walk 
with their heels upward and their heads hanging 
down ? That there is a part of the world in which all 
things are topsy-turvy ; where the trees grow with 
their branches downward, and where it rains, hails, 
and snows upward ? " Others solemnly asserted that 
to acknowledge the existence of land on the other 
side of the globe, would be to reject the Bible, since 
in that case there must have been another parent to 
the human race than Adam, as it was impossible for 
men to have crossed the ocean. 

To these objections Columbus replied in a strain ot 
impassioned vehemence and strong argument, that 



C0LTJJIBU8. 29 

won over several of the most intelligent and powerful 
in the assembly. His whole soul was engaged in the 
huge task of wielding that mass of bigotry and^pre- 
judice; the great object and aim of his whole life 
was involved in the exciting struggle. But, day after 
day was occupied in tantalizing debate, till the months 
wore away, and the interest and enthusiasm of all 
were drawn from Columbus and his startling schemes 
to the preparations for a new campaign against the 
Moors, in which all were eager to join from motives 
of piety, and for the opportunities it offered for roman- 
tic adventure or military prowess. Talavera, to 
whose direction the council had been consigned, ta- 
king no interest in the proceedings, left Cordova with 
the court ; his departure ended the sittings of the 
learned body, and Columbus was again abandoned 
to his own great dreams. 

During the four following years, he was attached 
to the royal suite in an humble capacity ; his claims 
were occasionally noticed, but the assemblies con- 
vened for the purpose, invariably lost the time in ad- 
vancing absurd objections, then dispersed at the sig- 
nal for a new campaign, without deigning a reply to 
the impatient apjilicant. Tormented with this pain- 
ful suspense, he mingled in silence with the crowd 
which pressed through the streets of the royal cities, 
sat brooding and unheeded in the antechambers of 
the palaces, or, following the court to Grenada, looked 
with melancholy disdain upon the long lines of bril- 
liantly equipped troops, as they marched to battle, or 



oO DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

filed tlirougli tlie gates of conquered cities with tri- 
•umphant banners. Goaded at last to desperation, by 
the continued trifling with his long-revolved project, 
he demanded an immediate reply from the conference, 
again upon the point of dispersing. 

The entire enterprise was finally rejected as vision- 
ary and unbecoming to the dignity of a prince — a 
decision which Ferdinand softened by assuring Co- 
lumbus it should be reconsidered at the close of the 
war. Indignant and grieved, he left Seville, and de- 
termined to seek the patronage of other courts. 
Wearied, discouraged, and reduced to extreme pov- 
erty, he arrived at the convent of La Rabida, after 
nearly six years of intolerable anxiety, and the final 
rejection of the splendid gift he would have laid at 
the feet of his sovereigns. Yet he never, for a mo- 
ment, thought of abandoning a project that was thus 
rudely buffeted and banded from one court to an- 
other. His wonderful perseverance was but tasked 
to greater efibrt. 

Juan Peres, the guardian of the convent, was as- 
tonished and exasperated at the result of the applica- 
tion. He had formerly been confessor to the queen ; 
with this advantage, he penned a letter of expostula- 
tion to the monarchs, and despatched it by a worthy 
friar, who discharged his commission so promptly 
that, in fourteen days, he returned with a royal letter 
and message demanding the presence of Juan Peres. 
Unwilling to lose a moment, he set out at midnight 
for the Spanish camp, at Santa Fe. Arrived at the 



COLUMBUS 31 

scene of war, he was conducted to the presence oi Is- 
abella, whom he addressed with a daring zeal that at 
once enlisted her interest and sympathy. He was 
rewarded by her summons for Columbus, and the gift 
of a purse to provide the habiliments necessary to his 
appearance in the presence of royalty. 

Overjoyed at the prospect of success, Columbus 
hastened to obey the command. lie arrived at the 
camp in time to witness the surrender of Grenada, 
and the mournful departure of the last of the Moorish, 
kings. It was a propitious moment ; the monarchs 
were elated with success, and prepared to listen en- 
couragingly to new plans. Nobles and grandees, 
wreathed with fresh laurels, fiiir senoras of distin- 
guished birth, honoring, in gala dress, the late crown- 
ing victory of the Spanish arms ; stately archbishops, 
cardinals and priests, exulting over the downfall of 
the crescent, and, elevated above them all, the revered 
sovereigns, of more imposing presence than ever, and 
now thrice crowned — altogether composed an assem- 
blage that, without overawing, inspired Columbus 
with rare and majestic eloquence. He felt that his 
destiny and the fate of an undiscovered world hung 
upon his words. His benignant face beamed with 
the intensity of his enthusiasm ; his form dilated and 
towered with the vastness of his expanded soul, while 
he pictured the magnificent realms he should add to 
their conquest, and the converts that would be made 
among heathen hosts who peopled the unknown re- 
gions in barbaric splendor. 



o2 DISCOVEREES ANiJ Jt JONEEKS OF A:\[ERICA. 

Tlie last suggestion touched the tender heart of 
Isabella far more than the grandeur he depicted. 
Whispers of incredulity or derision went from lij) to 
lip among those who, for the first time, beheld the 
ftimous navigator ; while hope and anxiety were 
plainly visible upon the countenances of those who 
appreciated and approved the disputed claims. Fer- 
dinand looked coldly upon the audacity of the inno- 
vator who demanded " for himself and heirs, the title 
and authority of Admiral and Viceroy over all lands 
discovered by him, with one tenth of the profits." 

The haughty Talavera, now elevated to the arch- 
bishopric of Grenada, came again like a dark shadow 
between Columbus and the object almost within his 
grasp. He pompously assured the king that such terms 
" savored of the highest degree of arrogance, and 
would be unbecoming in their highnesses to grant to 
a needy, foreign adventurer." What bitter words to 
the proud claimant ! Ferdinand endeavored to per- 
suade him to relinquish his ambitious terms. His 
dignity would not yield this ; the imperious Ferdi- 
nand and the princely-minded supplicant were equals 
ly firm. The interview ended, and Columbus quickly 
passed out, despising the throng who gloried over the 
acquisition of a petty kingdom and blindly rejected 
the vast domains he could give them. Indignant and 
angry, he disregarded the expostulations of the friends 
who gathered about him, mounted his mule and rode 
away from the scenes of martial triumph. 

Pained at the rejection of his enterprise, those 



COLUMBUS. 33 

friends sought the queen. Alonzo de Quintanilla and 
St. Angel, his warmest advocates, boldly reproached 
Isabella for hesitathig to undertake a cause in which 
little could be lost, while the gain might be incalcu- 
lable, yielding to her own generous impulses, and 
acting with the decision and spirit which had never 
allowed the interests of the united kingdoms to 
clash, she exclaimed, " I undertake^ the enterprise for 
my own crown of Castile, and will pledge my jewels 
to raise the necessary funds." 

A courier was hastily despatched for Columbus ; 
he had crossed the rich Yega, in the midst of which 
stood the Moorish capital, and was passing over tiie 
bridge of Pinos, when he was overtaken. He refused 
to return, for he had no faith in Ferdinand. Assured 
the message was from the queen herself, he joyfully 
turned back, for he knew her word was a sacred 
pledge that had never been broken. Isabella re- 
ceived him graciously, promptly acceded to his terms, 
directed the immediate prej^aration of two ships, a 
third being provided by Martin Alonzo Pinzon and 
Juan Peres, of La Rabida. She then, with Ferdi- 
nand, signed the capitulations which w^ere concluded 
the 17th of April, 1492. 

The port of Palos in Andalusia was selected by the 
queen for the fitting out of the armament, because the 
inhabitants were under penalty, for some misdemean- 
or, to serve the crown for one year with two armed 
caravels. By a royal mandate, they were obliged to 
prepare and man them within ten days, for Columbus. 
B* s 



3J: DISCOVEKEUS A2iD PIONEEUS OF AMERICA. 

The decree set all Palos in commotion. The most of 
the inhabitants were horror-struck at the thought of 
venturing into regions long invested with supernatu- 
ral terrors. Even the oldest mariners, with the ex- 
ception of those who at first had gathered about Co- 
lumbus, shook their heads and shrugged their shoul- 
ders at the fearful enterprise. They might approve 
the theory, but it was a very difierent matter to test 
it personally. After great difficulty, a crew of one 
hundred and twenty, from various ports of S23ain, was 
pressed into the service, and the little fleet was ready 
for sea on the 3rd of August. 

Dejected by the prospect of near approaching 
death, the motley crew went in procession to the 
church of Palos, confessed and received the blessing 
of the revered Father Peres, returned to the ships, 
unfurled the sails and floated away over the vast 
waste of waters from which few of them ever ex- 
pected to return. The friends who watched the van- 
ishing sails from the shore, wept in unconsolable 
grief for those they deemed lost, or about to undergo 
terrors, the more fearful because mysterious. 

Three weeks elapsed bofore the three barks out- 
sailed the last point of land, owing to a delay at the 
Canary islands. When the sailors beheld the heights 
of Ferro gradually fade from their sight, and saw 
nothing but the wide rolling ocean wherever they 
turned, fear overcame them and they burst into tears 
and loud lamentations. Columbus had new and un- 
foreseen difficulties to contend with, throughout the 



COLUMBUS. 35 

voyage — tlie continued danger of insubordination 
among the undisciplined crews which had no sjaTipa- 
thy in, or appreciation of, his great object ; the start- 
ling variation of the needle for which he could not 
account satisfactorily to himself; and the extent of 
ocean which greatly exceeded the computation of the 
most able cosmographers. The last perplexity, he 
concealed from the officers and crew, lest their fears 
should defeat his continued progress. 

The daily look-out for land caused intense and in- 
creasing excitement. Often startled with the hope- 
ful cry of " land ho ! " and as often sinking back into 
disappointment and fear, the men at last gre^v despe- 
rate and would hear no more of their commander's 
oft-repeated assurances of a speedy possession of 
splendid countries and immense riches. They gath- 
ered in knots and planned his destruction, if he did 
not conduct them to terra Jti'mavfiXhin a certain num- 
ber of days. Columbus maintained, in their pres- 
ence, a self-possessed, commanding, fearless demean- 
or, and a clear, serene countenance that still held them 
in awe ; but when alone in his long night-watches, he 
gazed intently and anxiously along the dusky horizon, 
to catch the faintest promise of land. 

At length, one evening, he caught the glimmering 
of a flitting light, as if one went to ana fro, or was 
rocked upon the waves. Believing it to be the indi- 
cations of inhabited land, he remained on a keen 
watch through the night. At two in the morning, 
the thrilling «ignal of a gun from the Pinta an- 



36 DISCOVEKEES AND FIONEERS OF AilEIlICA. 

nounced the joyful news of land. They cast anchor, 
and impatiently waited for the dawn to reveal what 
was before them. Doubtless, Columbus expected to 
behold the rich shore of the eagerly sought India, or 
the perfumed groves and gilded cities of the famed 
Cipango. 

As the shadows of night were slowly lifted from 
the dark mass that had loomed up through long, tan- 
talizing hours, they looked with wonder upon the 
shores of a beautiful island, covered with a luxuriant 
growth of trees and fresh verdure that extended to 
the beach. Human beings of neither giant growth nor 
dwarfish proportions, emerged from the woods in 
every quarter, and seemed lost in astonishment at 
the approach of white-winged monsters, which they 
believed had been wafted from heaven upon the 
clouds. 

Columbus immediately ordered a boat to be low- 
ered, and, richly attired in scarlet and gold lace, de- 
scended to the boat, bearing a banner emblazoned 
with a cross, two crowns and the initials of the Span- 
ish monarchs. Upon reaching the shore, the admiral 
and his companions prostrated themselves and kissed 
the earth, uttering transports of joy and giving thanks 
to God in. tears. Columbus then unfurled his stand- 
ard, solemnly took possession of the island in the 
name of his sovereigns, and demanded the oath of 
obedience to himself as viceroy, from his. followers. 
They crowded about him, knelt at his feet, kissed and 
(embraced him with reverence and admiration, and 



COLUMBUS. 37 

entreated favor of him as if they beheld in him a 
princely conqueror. 

The natives timidly approached, touched their gar- 
ments with curiosity, and noted the fair skins and the 
long beards of the new comers, with amazement. 
They recognized the superiority of Columbus in the 
devotion of his companions, and were won by the 
benignity with which he submitted to their scrutiny. 
The Spaniards, in their turn, beheld with wonder a 
race widely differing from any in the known world. 
Finely proportioned, naked, of copper-colored skin, 
with straight black hair flowing upon their shoulders, 
speaking an unknown tongue, simple and harmless in 
their manners — they were objects of intense interest 
and speculation to the discoverer. Thus the inhabi- 
tants of the Old and the IsTew World met for the first 
time, after centuries of mysterious separation. 

The island was named St. Salvador ; and as it gave 
no proof of the rich, populous cities the admiral had 
expected to find, and as the natives pointed to the 
south as being a golden region, he spread sails again 
to seek the country of the Grand Ivhan, in the exis- 
tence of which he confidently believed. All that the 
natives had told him by signs, he interpreted in ac- 
cordance with his hopes. 

For weeks they cruised among the islands that, on 
every hand, rose from the sea. Full of enthusiasm, 
they regarded everything in the most favorable light, 
and were enraptured with the soft climate, the luxu- 
rious vegetation of the islands and the hospitality of 



38 DISCO VEKEKS iVIS'D PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

the Indians. At Hispaniola, while at anchor in the 
Bay of Acril, the ship nnder the command of Colum- 
bus, was drifted to the shore through the carelessness 
of the helmsman ; the keel struck deep into the sands 
and the caravel was soon an irreparable wreck. 
Alarmed at the loss of his vessel and grieved by the 
late desertion of Pinzon and his crew, Columbus re- 
solved to return immediately to Spain. A few of 
his men, attracted by the easy, indolent life of the 
natives, and pleased with the gracious and prince-like 
majesty of the ruling cacique, and his generosity to- 
wards them, decided to remain among this newly 
discovered race. The wrecked ship afforded them 
materials and arms for a fortress, which they speedily 
built. The rest, with Columbus, returned to the re- 
maining caravel. Longing to extend his discoveries, 
yet feeling that the success of the expedition now de- 
pended upon the safe voyage of one fragile bark, 
he turned from the enticing hope of greater discover- 
ies and directed the single prow homeward. 

A few days after leaving La Navidad and while 
still beating along the coast, a shout from the mast 
head announced the joyful news of a sail standing to- 
wards them. It proved to be the Pinta. Pinzon en- 
deavored to palliate his desertion by various excuses, 
to which Columbus listened without reply. Four 
Indian men and two girls, to be sold in Spain, had 
been taken captive during his independent cruising, 
and a large quantity of gold had been secured. Co- 
lumbus immediately restored the wronged natives to 



COLUMBUS. 39 

their island, notwithstanding the angry opposition of 
Pinzon. Four young Indians, however, were received 
as guides to the Caribbean Islands — a proposed ex- 
tension of the voj^age that was afterwards abandoned. 
Their sails were now gladly spread for Spain ; but, 
when fai out upon the Atlantic, a terrific storm 
threatened the destruction of both the frail vessels, 
ill-litted to outride a tempest. For days, they were 
obliged to scud under bare poles, while, every mo- 
ment, the frightened sailors believed they should be 
buried beneath the overwhelming waves. The two 
vessels kept within sight, until, during a night of fear- 
ful danger, they were separated. Morning dawned 
upon a waste of broken, foaming waves ; the Pinta 
was no where visible. The sailors of the Nina were 
maddened with terror at the disaj)pearance of their 
companions ; left alone upon the vast waters, which 
were lashed into fury by the gale, their old supersti- 
tions returned ; they trembled with the fear of being 
kept forever in the midst of the stormy waste, and 
cursed the hour in which they had embarked in the 
enterprise. These repinings added to the anxiety and 
distress that already depressed their commander. The 
whole success of his life-long pursuit depended upon 
the fate of the half-wrecked bark that I'emained to 
him. If it was lost, the knowledge and record of his 
triumph would be buried with it ; the New World 
might remain unknown for ages, and his own name, 
despoiled of its glory, be the distinction only of a 
chimerical adventurer. 



40 DISCO VERKKS A^'i) PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

Harassed witli these fears, he prepared two concise 
accounts of his discoveries upon parchment, encased 
them in waxed cloth within cakes of wax, and en- 
closed them in casks ; one, he threw into the sea ; the 
other was placed npon the poop of the vessel, with 
the hoj)e of its floating oif in case of the destruction 
of the caravel. But at the close of the same day 
upon which these precautions were taken, the dark 
clouds broke into fleecy groups, the waves were but 
lightly crested, and a clear light gleamed in the west. 
Tlie following morning, shouts of joy resounded 
through the ship, as the clear, sunny atmosphere re- 
vealed land ; the shores of the Old World were greet- 
ed with almost as deep, heart-felt enthusiasm as had 
filled all eyes with tears on approaching land, after 
a long wandering in the unknoMai seas of the 'New 
World. 

As if Columbus had not yet been sufliciently tried 
by a multiplicity of troubles and delays, a new de- 
tention still withheld from him the glory and the tri- 
umj)hant vindication of his theory, Avhicli he eagerly 
awaited. Upon arriving at the Azores, he sent part 
of his crew on shore at St. Mary's to fulfill a vow that 
had been made during the tempest, namely, to send 
a procession, bare-footed, to ofler thanksgiving in 
some cliurcli dedicated to the Virgin. While pray- 
ing in the island chaj^el, they were arrested by order 
of the king of Portugal, — an act instigated entirely 
by jealousy. Columbus not having been secured 
as was the intention, the innocent sailors were re- 



COLUMBUS. 41 

leased after a detention of three days, and they again 
set sail for Spain. After being tossed about in a mer- 
ciless tempest for days, tliey were obliged to take 
shelter in a Portngnese harbor. 

Couriers were immediately despatched to the Span- 
ish sovereigns, with the news of his arrival and suc- 
cess. Meanwhile, crowds from Lisbon daily visited 
the ship, with its marvellous freight of productions 
from the new countries. A message from the king 
invited Columbus to the court at Valparaiso, whither 
he repaired and was received with distinctions grant- 
ed only to princes of the royal blood. King John 
was deeply grieved and mortified at having lost the 
vast acquisitions that had been rejected with disdain, 
in the person of the great navigator. Some of the 
courtiers, envious and piqued at the brilliant achieve- 
ments of one who had defied their learning and wis- 
dom, proposed the assassination of Columbus. Oth- 
ers suggested the secret fitting out of an armament 
that should proceed, at once, over the same route, and 
claim the forfeited possessions, under cover of a grant 
from the Pope, which ceded to them a portion of the 
imaginary India. The last proposition was accepted. 

Upon the reception of letters from his royal j)at- 
rons, Columbus promptly sailed for Spain, and arrived 
safely at Palos, on the 15th of March. At the start- 
.ling news of the return of the Nina, and that it was 
actually at anchor in the harbor, the inhabitants of 
Palos could scarcely exj)ress their astonishment and 
joy. All business was suspended, the bolls pealed 



IS DISCO vT:Ki:r:=; Axn pionei:es of ameeica. 

out a noisy welcome, and the streets were filled 
with a multitude, running to and fro with the ex- 
citement of the wonderful event. Shouts and excla- 
mations rent the air, as Columbus and his crew land- 
ed and proceeded to the Church to give thanks, 
where, seven months before, they had stood dejected 
and trembling with terror at the plunge they were 
about to take into unknown regions. 

Columbus, who had departed amid the execrations 
and jeers of the wise and the learned, came now 
overwhelmed with honors, unshared by any other per- 
son. Pinzon, who, by a singular coincidence, arrived 
at Palos on the evening of the same day with the ad- 
miral, was mortified and foiled in his hopes of first 
announcing the result of the voyage. He was sur- 
prised at sight of the Nina, anchored in the same 
port. He had believed her lost at sea, and hastened 
to receive honors he flattered himself were reserved 
for him alone. Upon hearing of the enthusiastic re- 
ception of his commander, he landed privately, and, 
after the departure of Columbus for court, repaired 
to his own home. The subsequent displeasure of the 
sovereigns at his conduct stung his sensitive soul ; 
humbled and crushed under a keen sense of his dis- 
honor, he died a few days after the announcement of 
his disgrace. 

The arrival of Columbus at Barcelona was like the 
triumphar.t entry of a Roman conqueror. The return 
from a balloon voyage to the moon, at the present 
day, with specimens of its inhabitants and vegetation, 



COLUSIBUS. 43 

could not produce a greater commotion than did tliat 
event which crowded the streets, balconies, and even 
the roofs, of Barcelona with spectators. Six Indians, 
whom Columbus had induced to accompany him, and 
who were showily decorated with gold coronets, 
bracelets, and various ornaments, headed the singular 
procession ; it was with difficulty that it made its way 
through the applauding populace to the square, where 
Ferdinand and Isabella publicly awaited the ap- 
proach of the illustrious voyager, beneath a canopy 
of gold brocade. 

When Columbus approached, escorted on either 
hand by royal princes, the sovereigns rose to receive 
him as if he had been a monarch and a conqueror. 
He knelt before them, and would have kissed their 
hands in token of vassalage, had they permitted it ; 
but they raised him, and, with a graciousness that was 
unheard of in a court remarkable for its punctilious 
etiquette, seated him beside them. This was the 
proudest moment of his life. His age, his white 
locks, the beaming benignity of his countenance and 
the majesty of his carriage, were in keeping with the 
dignity and grandeur of the enterprise he had hero- 
ically accomplished. 

This triumph was enhanced by the hard, life-long 
battle through which he had attained victory. He 
had combated the accumulated science of ages ; he 
had fought the bigotry and pedantry of churchmen, 
and the superstition of the masses ; defied the expe- 
rience of veteran mariners, struggled with poverty, 



41 DISCOTKREKS AND PIONEERS OF AlVrRRICA. 

journeyed with iiiiconquerable perseverance from 
court to court, and, at last, in three little ships, that 
were but toys for the rude waves to toss about, he 
had battled the elements, subdued his rebellious crew, 
sternly and daringly ploughed through the unknown 
deep, and grasped the reality that, from his youth, had 
floated before his vision like a phantom. 

Proud Castilian nobles, warriors famed for their 
knightly prowess in the victories of Grenada, arch- 
bishops and cardinals — the same who had haughtily 
brushed by the poor applicant a year before, now 
sank in insignificance before the immortalized man, 
upon whom all eyes turned with wonder, almost with 
adoration. After Columbus had communicated the 
most important events of his voyage to the monarchs, 
they fell upon their knees and gave thanks to God ; 
an act which was imitated by the vast multitude. In 
the midst of the prevailing solemnities, the notes of 
the Te Deum arose softly, and swelled into grand 
rolling tones that quelled the murmurs of many voi- 
ces into a hush of attention. The effect of the scene 
upon Columbus was such that he solemnly vowed to 
devote a large proportion of his anticipated wealth to 
the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre from the infidels. 
This visionary project of a splendid crusade was his 
favorite theme, and an object for which he provided 
in his will — a fact that sufficiently indicates the pious 
enthusiasm of his character, and his freedom from 
mere mercenary views. 

During the six months of preparation for a second 



COLUSIBUS. 45 

voyage, the glories of the New World, its golden riv- 
ers, its spicy groves, its exuberant verdure and de- 
licious climate, were discussed with vivacious ardor, 
by all Spain. The Indies were seen through a golden 
vail that imparted a bewitching brilliancy and ro- 
mance to its distant shores. The heroic and the am- 
bitious, who longed for chivalric achievements, like 
those which had distinguished the Moorish war, ea- 
gerly rushed into the newly-opened channel of enter- 
prise. The fleet of seventeen ships, destined for the 
voyage, were soon crowded with the noblest hidalgos 
of Spain, and a promiscuous throng in quest of fame 
and gold. Such was the infatuation of the Spaniards, 
that many who were refused participation in the al- 
ready over-crowded expedition, went on board by 
stealth, and concealed themselves till the ships were 
out at sea. Thus, with wild hopes and buoyant spir- 
its, they bade adieu to European lands, little dream- 
ing of the stern toil and the bitter disapj^ointments 
that awaited them on transatlantic shores. 

A voyage of two months brought them to Hispan- 
iola, where some of the companions of the former 
voyage had remained in the hastily-built fortress of 
La Navidad. The ships anchored in the bay at eve- 
ning, and the crews impatiently awaited daybreak, to 
greet the men who had been left in the wilderness. 
Columbus felt serious apprehension lest some evil had 
befallen them, since no reply had been given to the 
signal-guns fired upon their arrival. No light, no 
sounds of life, were recognized in the profound still- 



46 DISCOYERERS AND nONEERS OF AMERICA. 

ness that ominously rested upon the neighboring 
shore, till, out of the darkness, two or three boats, 
filled with Indians, shot over the water and ap- 
proached the ships. The Indians could not be per- 
suaded to go on board until Columbus presented him- 
self, with a light that enabled them to scan his 
features. They readily recognized the venerable 
form and countenance of the admiral, and no longer 
hesitated to trust themselves to the formidable Span- 
iards. 

From them the fate of the little colony was ascer- 
tained. They related that Caonabo, a fierce cacique, 
known to the Spaniards as the lord of the Golden 
House, had come down from his dominions in the 
golden mountains of Cibao, attacked and burned the 
village of the peaceful Guacanagari, destroyed the 
fortress and massacred the Spaniards who had quar- 
reled among themselves, and had neglected needful 
caution. 

Pained at the mournful fate of the garrison, Colum- 
bus abandoned his design of establishing a colony 
there, and selected a more favoiable site. A harbor, 
sheltered upon one side by rocks, and by a forest on 
the other, and having a finely watered plain in the vi- 
cinity, was decided upon. The projected city was 
named Isabella, and its erection immediately com- 
menced. Stores, ammunition, arms, and live stock, 
had been abundantly provided, and were promptly 
disembarked. The work at first proceeded with zest, 
but the efi'ects of unaccustomed labor and a new cli- 



COLITMBTJS. 47 

mate, were soon visible, especially among the young 
cavaliers, who were sorely chagrined at finding the 
necessity of severe bodily exertion, when they had 
anticipated nothing but delightful roamings in para- 
disiacal regions, and the easy acquisition of gold that 
was somehow to fall into their hands at every turn. 

The prevailing gloom and despondency of mind 
aggravated diseases, which rapidly thinned out their 
numbers. Oppressed by these unhappy results, over- 
come with fatigue, and disappointed in not finding 
a store of gold at La Kavidad, with which to freight 
the returning ships, Columbus himself became se- 
verely ill ; but he shortly rallied and tasked his ener- 
getic mind to the utmost to provide freight for the 
waiting vessels, in keeping with the enticing accounts 
he had repeatedly given. Though his golden dreams 
daily eluded his grasp, he was always buoyed with 
the certainty of finding the rich country of the Grand 
Khan, which was, to the last, the object of his unti- 
ring search. 

Eager to realize the expectations of his sovereigns, 
of rich returns, and to sustain the reputation of his 
discoveries, he proposed an expedition to the moun- 
tains of Cibao, in search of gold. Alonzo de Ojeda 
was selected for the leader. He was a young cava- 
lier of dark and handsome countenance, fine propor- 
tions, and was remarkable for his strength and agil- 
ity. Irving further describes him as " bold of heart, 
free of spirit, open of hand ; fierce in fight, quick in 
brawl, but ready to forgive and prone to forget an 



48 DISCOVERERS AISTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

injury." He was well fitted for the adventurous ex- 
pedition committed to him, and from which he re- 
turned with glowing descriptions of the golden riches 
of the powerful Caonabo's possessions. 

Elated by these reports, Columbus immediately 
despatched twelve of the ships, with specimens of 
gold found in the mountains, unknown fruits and 
plants, and a number of Carib captives, to be educa- 
ted for interpreters, and to aid in the conversion of 
their race. Being fully aware of the great discrep- 
ancy between the outlays and the returns of the ex- 
pedition, he proposed a source of revenue to liis 
sovereigns that leaves an inefiaceable blot upon his 
name. It was the enslavement of the Carib race — 
a suggestion which he justified by the hope of their 
civilization and eventual conversion to the true faith. 
Isabella's humanity and sense of justice at once re- 
jected the scheme. 

In order to divert the colonists from their discontent, 
and to search for the expected gold, a party of well- 
armed men prepared for battle, labor, or mining, 
and headed by the admiral, set out to explore the in- 
terior of Hispaniola. After crossing a plain and ar- 
riving at the summit of a mountain pass, they beheld 
a luxurious plain extended beneath them, occasion- 
ally intersected by magnificent forests of gigantic 
mahogany trees and spreading palms, brightened by 
countless streams, and dotted with Indian hamlets, 
from which the inhabitants poured forth in dismay 
at the sound of drums and trumpets, and the sight of 



COLUJIBLS. • 49 

men clad in shining steel, and mounted upon animals 
that seemed to them one with their riders. In tiieir 
simplicity, they regarded the Spaniards as children 
of Heaven, and eagerly laid at their feet all the gifts 
they had to bestow. Gold was brought in abundance. 

The little army continued their march for several 
days, till they reached the mountain barriers on the 
opposite side of the plain. A fortress was erected in 
the most suitable place for mining, but the results 
were meagre, as the miners were continually enticed 
by the Indians to wander hither and thither in search 
of more promising regions, which were always upon 
the banks of some remote stream, in the depths of an 
intricate forest, or hidden among the unattainable 
mountain heights. 

Upon returning to the settlement of Isabella, Co- 
lumbus found the colonists in a deplorable state. 
The heat of the climate, and the humidity of the soil, 
had induced illness or extreme debility among the 
largest portion of the settlers ; the growing scarcity 
of provisions, also promised a speedy famine. Seek- 
ing the general good, Columbus promptly put the 
whole colony on short allowance, constructed a mill 
to grind, corn, and, by compulsory measures, obliged 
the Spanish cavaliers to perform the duties of the 
common laborers, who were the greatest sufferers by 
sickness. These measures, so necessary to the wel 
fare of the whole colony, were regarded by the proud 
and intolerant cavaliers as the unjust impositions of 
an upstart foreigner. They formed the grounds of 



50 DISCOVEEERS AND nONEEKS OF A«iIEKICA. 

persecution and anathema that henceforth pursued, 
and*finally crushed, the man whose whole life seems 
one continuous struggle with the elements of nature 
and the prejudice of mankind. 

. "When tranquillity was in a measure secured to the 
colony of Isabella, a voyage of discovery was attempt- 
ed in the direction of Cuba. ■ Columbus still believed 
Cuba to be part of the continent of Asia — " the be- 
ginning and end of India." His intention was to 
have coasted, the imagined continent, till he arrived . 
at regions belonging to the known world, and thus 
circumnavigate the globe, or return to Spain by way 
of the Mediterranean. His vessels were disabled, 
however, by cruising in the intricate channels that 
abound along the western coast of Cuba ; and the 
sailors were unwilling to advance farther, where they 
might incur still greater exposure and peril than they 
had already endured. He was obliged to turn back, 
though not until his crew had signed a deposition, de- 
claring their belief that Cuba was part of the conti- 
nent of Asia. Two days' continuation of the voyage 
would have undeceived them, but in that, as in every 
enterprise which Columbus projected, he was baffled 
by the timidity or obstinacy of those with whom he 
had to deal. 

Violent storms accompanied their return voyage, 
separating the vessels and threatening destruction. 
The admiral endured the most jDainful anxiety, day 
and night, for there was not one in whom he could 
trust, while traversing these unknown seas, where 



coLuarBus. 51 

they were continuallj entangled among wild islands. 
"When at last the ocean became tranquil, and thev 
emerged into more familiar regions, the reaction of 
extreme excitement and fatigue left Columbus in a 
state of insensibility that resembled the lethargy of 
death. The alarmed sailors spread the sails to a fa 
vorable breeze, and bore their unconscious com 
mander into the harbor of Isabella. . 

There was one at Isabella who eagerly awaited his 
arrival. Bartholomew Columbus, his eldest brother, 
had parted from him when he had first sought the 
shores of Spain, and had been commissioned by him 
to seek the patronage of Henry YII. of England. In 
this, Bartholomew had been successful, after a cap- 
tivity of some years with a roving corsair. He has- 
tened to iSpain to announce the result, but, at Paris, 
learned that the discovery had been accomplished, 
and that his brother was showered with honors at the 
Spanish court, and was preparing a second splendid 
expedition. He arrived in Spain just after the fleet 
had sailed, but, aided by the monarchs, fitted out a 
vessel and spread his sails in the wake of the brilliant 
fleet. The delay of these preparations, and struggles 
with adverse winds, caused a late arrival at Isabella ; 
he entered the harbor just after the admiral had 
sailed for Cuba. 

Columbus' flrst consciousness was the presence of 
this beloved brother. It inspired him with new hope 
and strength. He had been his early companion 
and the supporter of his splendid schemes, and he 



52 DISCOVEEEES AISTD PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

was fully capable of relieving him now of the intol- 
erable cares that oppressed him among strangers and 
imsympathizing foreigners. Bartholomew was a man 
.of powerful, vigorous frame and commanding air; he 
was prompt, firm, fearless and persevering — qualities 
that well fitted him to govern a turbulent colony. 
He differed from Columbus in a certain sternness and 
abruptness of manner which repelled rather than won ; 
the penetration and sagacity of his intellect prepared 
him to deal with men and things, with an adroitness 
entirely at variance with the admiral's simplicity of 
character. 

Columbus gladly invested Bartholomew with the 
title and authority of Adelantado, which gave him 
the government of the island — an office that had 
principally devolved upon Don Diego, his younger 
brother, who was of too mild and inoffensive a nature 
to maintain an energetic and firm government. The 
aflairs of the colony had become lamentably disor- 
dered during the absence of the admiral. Complaints 
and threats arose from every quarter. Every ship 
that arrived from Spain had been sent back with 
accounts of the tyranny and oppression of Columbus, 
and his deceitful representations of the newly discov- 
ered countries. These calumnies, continually poured 
into the ears of the Spanish monarchs, finally gained 
some credence, and one Juan Aguado was despatched 
to ascertain the truth of these representations. 

He arrived at Hispaniola soon after the return of 
the admiral, and while the colonists were exasperated 



COLUMBUS. 53 

at the appointment of another brother to high office. 
The haughty cavaliers were indignant at the rule of 
a familj of foreigners, who had sprung from poverty 
and obscurity. They bewailed their own fate, and 
pointed to the graves of their companions, in whom 
wounded pride and sullen despair had worked more 
fatally than disease. Insults and accusations were 
heaped upon the admiral. Juan Aguado prepared to 
return to Spain, with an accumulation of grievances, 
that placed Columbus in the light of an unpardona- 
ble criminal. The serious aspect now given to these 
complaints, decided the admiral at once to present 
himself at court and vindicate the measures he had 
adopted. 

The government of the island, during his absence, 
was committed to Bartholomew,- the Adelantado. He 
set sail at the same time with Aguado, in a separate 
caravel, containing a large number of the factious 
and disappointed colonists. Thirty Indians were also 
on board, who, after a visit to Spain, were to be re- 
turned to their native land. Among them was the 
famous Caonabo, the monarch of the golden moun- 
tains of Cibao, who, in a battle, had been taken pris- 
oner by the adventurous Ojeda. The wily stratagem 
by which the royal captive had been secured, so filled 
him with admiration and respect for the prowess of 
Ojeda, that, although diminutive in height and un- 
distinguished in dress, Caonabo invariably arose in 
his presence, but obstinately remained seated when 
Columbus, to whom every one else did obeisance, 



54 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEERS OF AIMERICA. 

appeared. Several fellow-captives were offered 
their liberty ; but one, a proud, heroic, Indian wo- 
man, the wife of a cacique, refused to go on shore, 
having been won by the misfortunes of the haughty 
and valorous chieftain whose fate she resolved to 
share. Caonabo died, however, on the passage. 

On the 11th of June, 1496, two caravels from the 
New World anchored in the bay of Cadiz. Multi- 
tudes hastened to greet the adventurers whose desti- 
ny they had envied, and whose gay equipments and 
exultant looks had filled the hearts of those obliged 
to remain, with discontent at their exclusion from a 
chance in the golden lottery. Now they beheld, with 
pity and surprise, a train of pale, emaciated wretches, 
just able to drag themselves on shore, loaded with 
disease and disappointment instead of the precious 
ore they had expected to bear. Columbus himself, 
divested of the imposing habiliments he was accus- 
tomed to wear, appeared in the humble garb of a 
Franciscan monk, and with an unshaven beard, either 
from a self-imposed vow, or because he felt himself 
under the displeasure of his sovereigns. 

His reception by Ferdinand and Isabella was un- 
expectedly gracious. No notice was taken by them 
of the complaints brought by Aguado ; they were too 
conscious of his great merits and the difficulties with 
which he had to contend, to reprimand his errors. 
He was obliged, Jiowever, to linger in Spain nearly 
two years before preparations were matured by the 
crown for a third voyage of discovery. The contest 



COLUMBUS. 55 

of political stratagem with France, and war with Italj, 
wholly absorbed the attention of Ferdinand, who, at 
best, looked coldly npon Columbus. Family alliances 
also drew largely upon the interest and thoughts of 
the sovereigns. 

In the spring of 1498, a squadron of six vessels was 
at his service ; but the reaction of the public mind in 
regard to the E"ew World, made the difficulty of ob- 
taining recruits for Hispauiola so great, that it became 
necessary to supply the deficiency with condemned 
criminals. This measure proved the destruction of 
the colony of Isabella, and was a fruitful source of 
trouble and vexation to the end of Columbus' life. 

The result of this voyage was the discovery of the 
South American continent ; but, when the aged ad- 
miral beheld its shores, he did not .accept it as the 
world which had been the object of his life-long 
search. He had a vague idea of an infinite extension 
of islands before him, deceived as he was by the low, 
wide plain, intersected in every direction by the Ori- 
noco. The rapid flow of fresh water into the gulf of 
Paria, he presumed to be from a mighty river that 
coursed through some continent yet far distant. Un- 
able to prosecute his discovery, in consequence of the 
weather-beaten state of his vessels, and his own in- 
creasing infirmities, he steered for Hispaniola, after 
collecting various specimens from the new region, in 
wliich were included pearls of large size and great 
beauty, obtained from the natives. He arrived at Is- 
abella, emaciated by illness, and almost blind from 



56 DISCO VEKERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

the long niglit-watches he always kept when travers- 
ing unknown seas. 

The Adelantado welcomed him gladly ; for, during 
the two and a half years of their separation, an Her- 
culean task had fallen to his share. Under a daring 
and insolent leader, the colonists were in a state of 
rebellion ; not more than forty men remained loyal 
to the Adelantado, and even in those he could repose 
no confidence. The attempts of Columbus to restore 
order resulted in his own deep humiliation. He was 
obliged to accede to all the terms proposed by the 
rebels ; granted them Indian slaves, supplied them 
with ships to transport some of the principal actors 
to Spain, provided them with certificates of good con- 
duct, and permitted the worthless rabble to embark 
for home in complete triumph, unpunished, and rec- 
ommended to the sovereigns. The admiral, how- 
ever, privately despatched letters to his royal patrons, 
assuring them of the true state of afi'airs, and that the 
capitulations had been compulsory. 

Only a few days had elapsed after their departure, 
when they all returned, actuated in part by the severe 
weather they had experienced, and much more, prob- 
ably, from fear to appear in Spain, after carrying out 
such high-handed measures. Columbus beheld them 
pouring in upon him again, with a heavy heart. He 
was stung with the insolent, impudent mien which 
they preserved ; he felt it the more keenly because 
of the light in which he regarded his own dignity of 
Rtation, — expecting, as he did, the same veneration 



COLUMBUS. 57 

from them, whicli he felt for those to whom he ac- 
knowledged vassalage. Yet, each day, new demands 
and new concessions were repeated. Large grants of 
land were allowed them ; their leader was installed in 
high office ; emboldened by their success, they com- 
mitted lawless depredations among the natives, rob- 
bed them of their valuables, and carried off the most 
beautiful of the Indian maidens. 

In the midst of these insubordinate movements, a 
letter arrived from Spain in reply to the complaints 
and demands of redress, made by Columbus. It was 
written by the Bishop Fonseca, superintendent of In- 
dian affairs, an artful, malignant enemy of the admiral, 
and one who seized upon every opportunity to mis- 
represent him to Ferdinand and Isabella. He curtly 
replied that the alleged rebellion could not be inves- 
tigated at present. This disregard of the complaints 
encouraged the rebels to freer depredations. Colum- 
bus would have immediately sailed for Spain, but it 
was impossible while the island continued in a state 
of revolt. He despatched two caravels with those of 
the disaffected who chose to go, requested Ferdinand 
to send him learned men to form a council for settling 
disputes, and requested that his eldest son, Diego, 
who, with his brother, had the office of page at court, 
should be sent out to assist him. 

The ungovernable ruffians who had thus been 
shipped to Spain, hastened to Grenada, and, instiga- 
ted by the invidious Fonseca, gathered in the court 
of the Alhambra and sent up cries and lamentations 
c* 



53 DISCO VEEEKS AND PI0NEEE3 OF AMERICA. 

against the cruelty of Columbus. They ran after the 
king whenever he rode out, and pursued him every- 
where with their outcries. Ferdinand, already jeal- 
ous of the power with which he had invested a sub- 
ject, over countries whose vastness he was just be- 
ginning to appreciate, was exasperated at the accounts 
of the viceroy's harsh proceedings, verified in every 
particular by the false Fonseca. 

The sight of the enslaved Indian girls, their deplo- 
rable ruin and lamentations for their wilderness 
homes, filled Isabella with indignation and resent- 
ment. Their possessors asserted that they had been 
freely bestowed by the admiral. She had been firmly 
opposed, from the first, to the enslavement of the In- 
dians, had strictly prohibited it, and, on one occasion, 
shipped back a cargo of five hundred sent by Colum- 
bus, with assurances of her displeasure. With the 
heinous disregard of this command before her eyes, 
in an aggravated form, her humanity, her indignation 
and lier firmness, equally actuated her to the course 
she instantly adopted. 

The slaves were- ordered to be returned to their 
country, together with every other Indian who was 
wrongfully retained in Spain. Don Francisco de Bo- 
badilla, a man of violent passions and ambitious 
character, was appointed to go to Hispaniola, investi- 
gate the conduct of Columbus, and, if necessary, su- 
percede him in command. 

He arrived in the harbor of Isabella in the autumn 
of 1500. Without making inquiries, and prejudiced 



COLUJ.IBTTS, 59 

against the man he came to judge, lie took advantage 
of the admiral's absence in the interior, and controlled 
affairs according to his own hasty view of the mat- 
ter. He seized Don Diego, and enchained and im- 
prisoned him without assigning a cause ; pardoned 
all the rebels, took possession and disposed of Colum- 
bus' residence and effects, as if confiscated to the 
crown ; demanded the surrender of all the fortresses 
and sent peremptory orders for the admiral to appear 
before him. 

When Columbus beheld the royal missive, he was 
confounded. Conscious of his own integrity and mo- 
tives, he obeyed the mandate and presented himself 
before Bobadilla. He was immediately put in irons 
and confined in the fortress, amidst the shouts of the 
populace, though not one had dared to step forth and 
rivet the chains of him whose venerable presence and 
magnificent achievements could not but strike them 
with awe. He received the indignities heaped up- 
on him, in silence — not the silence of moroseness 
or guilt, but tlie stillness of a noble soul wounded 
by the ingratitude and falsity of a friend. He had 
reposed the utmost confidence in his reverenced 
queen. Her justice, her generosity, her magnanim- 
ity, had been a supporting staff, upon which he leaned 
with trust and undoubting reliance, when bound un- 
der an intolerable burden of care and injustice. That 
she should have failed him — that the sovereigns, to 
whom he had given incalculable services, should thus 
reward him, was a bitterness that made him indiffer- 



CO DISCO VEREES AND PIONEEllS OF AMERICA. 

ent and almost insensible to the insults of tlie assu- 
ming Bobadilla and the unprincipled rabble, upon 
whom he looked with mournful scorn. 

"When he appeared upon the shores of Spain in 
chains, a feeling of indignation sped like an electric 
shock throughout the kingdom. From the chivalric 
noble to the hot-blooded peasant, all felt a sense of 
shame that the honor of Spain was thus dimmed be- 
fore all the world. He refused to have his irons re- 
moved, proudly assuring those who interposed, that 
they had been placed there by the command of his 
sovereigns, and by their authority only they should 
be taken off ; then, he would preserve them as relics 
and memorials of the reward of his services. 

Isabella was surprised and grieved at the severity 
with which Bobadilla had executed her commands ; 
but when convinced of the unjust treatment of Co- 
lumbus, she made all the reparation in her power, 
provided him with a rich equipment, wrote letters 
expressing grief, and invited him to court. The mag- 
nificent hall of the Alhambra was the scene of the 
interview. Columbus entered and presented himself 
before his sovereigns and the throng that surrounded 
them, still keenly feeling his injuries, and maintaining 
the dignity and silence under which his sensitive 
spirit had taken shelter. But when he beheld tears 
in the eyes of the queen, heard her gentle voice of 
sympathy and regret, and received her extended hand, 
the long pent-up emotions of his heart flooded forth 
in uncontrollable tears. He threw himself upon his 



COLUMBUS. 61 

knees before her, but lie CDuld not speak a word for 
tbe violent sobs which choked his utterance. 

The monarchs raised him and consoled him with 
most gracious promises. When sufficiently recovered, 
he vindicated himself in the most eloquent and touch- 
ing terms. He received assurance of their sincere 
regret, and pledges of an immediate restoration to 
his dignities and government — promises which the 
deceitful and politic Ferdinand never intended to ful- 
fill. Columbus, nothing doubting, expected to be 
speedily reinstated, but he was doomed to disappoint- 
ment that embittered and clouded the remainder of 
his troubled life. 

He remained nine months at Grenada, endeavoring 
to arrange his affairs and to obtain the action of the 
king upon the restoration of his dignities. His pa- 
tience at last exhausted, he turned his attention to the 
prosecution of a fourth voyage in search of an imagi- 
nary strait that would open into the Indian sea, and 
afford a new route to oriental regions. He sailed in 
pursuit of this chimera, in the spring of 1502, with 
four caravels, accompanied by his brother, Don Bar- 
tholomew, and his youngest son, Fernando. The ex- 
pedition was unsuccessful. After coasting the east- 
ern shores of the southern continent for some dis- 
tance, he was obliged to sail for Hispaniola in conse- 
quence of the shattered condition of his vessels. 
Storms and adverse winds had been contended with 
throughout the voyage. His shipwreck on the coast 
of Jamaica, and detention at Hispaniola, — where the 



62 DISCOVEKEES AIsD PIONEEES OF AMEKICA. 

wretched and oppressive rule of Orvando, the gov- 
ernor appointed to supersede him, had produced a 
deplorable state of suffering and desolation, particu- 
larly among the Indians, — prevented his return to 
Spain till two years more of hardship and mental 
suffering were added to the weight already bearing 
him down to the grave. 

After twenty years of toil and pain, we find Co- 
lumbus at Seville, stripped of his honors, grown old 
and infirm in the service of his king, yet unrewarded, 
and painfully struggling with poverty. All the world 
resounded with his fame and envied his immortal 
name, while he lay writhing with pain in an obscure 
little inn, unattended, save by a few of his fellow- 
voyagers. Tormented by the remembrance of his 
unrestored honors, he despatched letter after letter to 
the ungrateful Ferdinand, full of entreaties for their 
restitution. He spurned the offer of titles and es- 
tates in Spain, though reduced to indigence. He did 
not seek pecuniary remuneration ; he only demanded 
the restoration of his offici-al dignities, which he as- 
sured the king concerned his honor, and which he re- 
garded as the invaluable trophies of his achievements. 
These very dignities were a stumbling block to the 
jealous monarch, who was unwilling to perpetually 
invest a subject and his heirs with the government 
of countries of vast and growing importance. He 
preferred the alternative of dissimulation and the vi- 
olation of his sealed promises. 

The death of Isabella, whose own severe afflictions 



COLUMBUS. 63 

had in a measure withdrawn her attention from af- 
fairs of state in her later days, was a severe stroke to 
the hopes of Columbus. He knew enough of the 
crafty policy of Ferdinand, to believe that, without 
the intercession of the beloved queen, his demands for 
the fulfillment of their sacred promise were futile. 
Yet he made one, last, despairing effort. The inten- 
sity and eagerness with which he followed up these de- 
mands of justice to himself and his descendants, im- 
parted strength and energy to his enfeebled body and 
mind. 

He who, a few years before, proceeded to court in 
triumph, attended by the nobility, renowned cava- 
liers, and an applauding populace, now entered the 
gates of Segovia, a poor, infirm old man, dejected 
and unnoticed. The royal palace was open to him, 
but he was received with cold, unmeaning smiles by 
the king, and listened, with a sinking heart, to liis eva- 
sive promises. Again and again, he sought the royal 
audience, till the anxiety, irritation and distress of 
mind incident to his prolonged application, laid him 
once more upon a bed of illness from which he was 
never to rise. His energy and youthful ardor rekin- 
dled and flamed up brilliantly with his flickering life. 
As if the infirmities of seventy years had not bound 
him hand and foot, he assured Philip and Joanna, 
the successors of Isabella, with all the enthusiasm of 
youth, that he would " yet be able to render them 
services, the like of which had never been wit- 
nessed I " 



64: DISCOVEBEBS AND PIOJ^EERS OF AMEEICA. 

He expired on the 20th of May, 1506, a few days 
after his brother Bartholomew had been despatched 
with the message to the new sovereigns. His son, 
Diego, and a few faithful followers surrounded his 
death-bed, which, if rendered gloomy by the severe 
disappointments of his earthly career, was illumined 
and cheered by his child-like faith in God, to wdiose 
guidance he had always committed his life, and to 
whose mercy he unhesitatingly confided his soul in 
death, with the words, " Into thy hand, O Lord, I 
commend my spirit." 

Columbus was peculiarly a man of intuitive ge- 
nius. He was gifted with a brilliant and soaring im- 
agination, that would have stamped him a visionary, 
but for a balancing penetration of mind and sound- 
ness of judgment. His inexhaustible energy and 
unequalled perseverance, enabled him to hold with 
unflinching grasp an imagined world, that must have 
eluded the clench of one less firm. His whole life, 
previous to the discovery, seems a stern preparation 
to that end. 

But his lively imagination and the excitement of 
success, invested the ISTew World with fabulous 
charms which stern experience rudely tore away. He 
strained every nerve to sustain his first, magnificent 
representations, and, in the effort to remunerate the 
monarchs of Spain for their rej)eated outlays, com- 
mitted the error which leaves the only blot upon his 
memory. The enslavement of the Indians, in direct 
disobedience to the commands of the humane Isa- 



COLUMBUS. G5 

bella, cau scarcely be excused by the alleged hope 
of their conversion, and still less by its being a return 
of expenditures. Thus, with the first star that light- 
ed the hidden world, came the curse that with every 
succeeding year takes a wider, surer sweep over a 
fair continent which claims for its emblem the God- 
dess of Liberty. 

His character fitted him to become the pioneer of a 
Kew World, but not its arbitrator. His benignity and 
simplicity of heart were calculated to win favor, but 
not to govern or deal with the cunning and duplicity 
of men ; the consciousness of his own integrity caused 
him to repose implicit confidence in others, l^ext to 
the supreme God he reverenced his sovereigns — a 
trait that cultivated a humility and meekness of spirit 
which, in all the proud triumph of his after life, nev- 
er were exchanged for arrogance. The purity and no- 
bleness of his aspirations, and the deep-toned and en- 
thusiastic piety that was prominent in all his visions 
and projects, lent an imposing dignity to his presence. 

Columbus was too immortal to be permitted to rest 
quietly in his grave. His dust was thrice disinterred, 
and received a fourth and splendid burial at Havanna, 
after successive removals from Yalladolid, Seville and 
Hispaniola. From the latter place, he was borne, not 
as once, a living victim of jealousy and chains, but 
a dead conqueror in triumph ; and his ashes were 
placed in their last resting place amid the pomp of 
cathedral service, the firing of canon and the splen- 
dor of military honors. 



II. 
AMERICUS VESPUCIUS. 

A MEKE freak of fortune, if not a course of decep- 
tion, exalted the name of a man, who, otherwise, could 
not have won for his own brow the laurels which 
should have crowned Columbus. He had neither the 
genius of him who turned the first prow towards the 
unknown world, nor its frequent substitute — a 
daring prowess, for which his fellow- vojager, Ojeda, 
was so remarkable. He certainly deserves the enco- 
miums of his countrymen for his successful applica- 
tion of astronomical science to the earth's equation ; 
but it would be no more unjust to claim for him, on 
that account, the honors of Ptolemy, whose discovery 
of the conjunction of the planets gave him that suc- 
cess, than to ascribe to him the glory of being the first 
discoverer of America. 

His first voyage, of which no convincing proofs 
can be obtained, if prosecuted at all, was simultane- 
ous with that of the Cabots. His second, shared with 
Ojeda, was but the following ujj of a route previously 
traversed by Columbus, whose charts had been ob- 
tained for a guide by unfair means. But, whether 



AMEEICUS VESPCCIUS. 67 

true or false, his claims must remain a point of dis- 
pute, till better evidence comes to light from the dusty 
archives of the Old World ; if false, abundant re- 
proach already rests upon his name ; and if true, Co- 
lumbus must still retain the proud distinction of first 
ploughing the breadth of the Atlantic, first heralding 
the existence of a New "World, and wedding its shores 
to the Old. 

Americus Vespucius was born in Florence, on the 
9th of March, 1451. He was the third son of Anas- 
tasio Vespucci and Elizabeth Mini, and descended 
from a long line of illustrious and noble ancestors. 
His father was a man of moderate wealth, but occu- 
pied "what was then a fine edifice near the gate of 
Florence, known at the present day as the Porta del 
Prato. The house still stands in the street called 
Borgongnisanti, is occupied by monks, and used as 
an hospital for the sick poor. Over the doorway, a 
marble tablet bears the name of Americus, with an 
inscription lauding him as the illustrious discoverer 
of America. 

Like all the residences of the nobility of Florence, 
it stood near the gates of the city, to permit a ready 
escape for the family in times of sudden outbursts 
among the populace. Sti'ongholds and elegant villas 
lined the vale of Arno, from Pisa to the Appenines, 
afi'ording resorts of pleasure as well as security. The 
Arno receives its tribute of waters from the towering 
mountains at the head of the valley ; it winds through 
the green vale which was then all along enlivened by 



63 DISCOVERERS iVJSTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

picturesque houses and gardens, and warlike castles ; 
it curves beneath four ponderous bridges at Florence, 
and rolls on through the beautiful valley, divides the 
far-famed city of Pisa, and, a league beyond, throws 
itself into the sea. 

In this beautiful rural scene, as much of the boy- 
hood of Americus passed, as in the palace-lined streets, 
the arched walks of the Boboli gardens, the statued 
squares, or the magnificent cathedral and royal chap- 
els of Florence — the last of such elegance and ex- 
quisite workmanship, that Michael Angelo himself 
could but gaze and wonder. 

Among the many convents of Florence was one 
where the sons of the principal nobles assembled for 
instruction. Georgio Antonio Yespucci, a man dis- 
tinguished for his learning and piety, and uncle to 
Americus, had been early destined to the church, and 
was a monk of the order of St. Mark. His convent 
was the resort of the young Florentines, among whom 
Americus was included, with the intention of educa- 
ting him for a merchant. It was a " long established 
custom among the nobility, to devote one of the 
younger sons to a mercantile life, as in those days it 
not only brought immense wealth, but high consid- 
eration. The bankers and capitalists of Florence had 
already exercised powerful influence in national af- 
fairs." 

Americus received a liberal and thorough educa- 
tion — one which fitted him for any position. In 
1478, his studies were interrupted by the universal 



AMEKICUS VESFUCIUS. 69 

panic that followed the appearance of the plague. 
His parents withdrew him from the convent, and has- 
tened with him to a country seat far up the valley of 
the Arno. When the pestilence had subsided, and 
Florence was repopulated with those who had fled 
in dismay from the dreaded contamination, Yespucci 
again opened his school. Americus was among the 
first to resume his studies, but many of the young 
Florentines were enticed from their studious pursuits 
to the recreations by which the nobility sought to 
efiace the remembrance of the terror, gloom and 
death, which had stalked through the deserted streets. 

Lorenzo, the Magnificent, held his court in the same 
gilded palace, which, a short time before, had been 
infested with the breath of the plague, and had been 
left in lonely grandeur, a palace for the King of Ter- 
rors. But no sooner had the dreaded conqueror 
strode away, than the fugitives came rushing back 
with noisy mirth and revelling, as if in mockery of 
the sounds of woe and wailing that had not yet died 
away. Festival after festival, and various entertain- 
ments of dazzling splendor, busied the inhabitants, 
till, in the strife to excel in dissipation and extrava- 
gance, they seemed to have gone mad. Strangers 
were attracted by thgp unbounded gayety of tlie new 
court ; their presence afforded an additional entice- 
ment to the young students, who hastily abandoned 
their books for amusements at the palace, or at the 
residences fo the nobility. 

Americus was too much of a stoic to yield to the 



TO DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

impulses of jonth. His thonglitful and retiring char- 
acter better adapted him to a studious application to 
book lore, in the solemn, silent hall of the convent, 
than to reckless dissipation among the frivolous and 
unlearned. When his studies were completed, he 
■went forth from his uncle's masterly hand, a finished 
scholar, such as was rare out of the cloister. He was 
equally fitted for a financier, a navigator, and for 
philosophical research. The lessons of piety he had 
received from his revered relative, were firmly im- 
planted, and aflforded him that undoubting reliance 
upon the providence of God, which was his support 
in the vicissitudes of life, and a source of joy and 
thankfulness in prosperity. 

Nothing is known of the occupations of Yespucius 
during the ten years that followed the completion of 
his stucljes, except that he continued to pursue his re- 
searches in cosmography, to which science his earliest 
preferences directed him. He collected the most ac- 
curate maps and charts that could be found, and ea- 
gerly traced out the shores of newly discovered re- 
gions which every voyage added to the known world. 
Every active mind was occupied with speculations 
upon what remained to be revealed. Ves]3ucius had 
not the vivid imagination to behold a continent in the 
midst of the great space that was yet vailed in mys- 
tery, but his calm, deliberate reason was preparing 
him to follow closely in the wake of the pioneering 
vessel, and ^ with his ow*: signature stamp the un- 
claimed world. 



AMERICUS VESPUCroS. 71 

YespiTcins was driven to fhe mercantile life, for 
which his father destined him, by the misfortunes of 
a brother, whose losses involved the family estates. 
He decided to seek his fortune in Spain, where the 
splendid court of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the 
brilliant military exploits of their nobles, attracted 
the young and ambitious of noble birth from all coun- 
tries. The Italian merchants took advantage of these 
movements and the consequent demand of their stuffs 
among the assembled cavaliers of Europe. Americus 
was commissioned an agent for one of the houses 
of Medici, and it is supposed also he had some con- 
nection with Juan Berardi, a wealthy Florentine mer- 
chant then engaged in Spain. 

In 1490, he left Florence for Spain, accompanied 
by several young nobles who were placed under his 
guardianship. Thus, after nearly forty years spent 
in study and seclusion, he entered upon the stirring 
scenes enacting in Spain, with little danger of being 
crazed with the enthusiasm that turned so many 
heads. There was nothing in Americus of the adven- 
turous spirit which sent hosts into sudden enterprises 
without " counting the cost ; " whatever he did was 
the result of deliberate conclusions. It is not surpri- 
sing, therefore, that, with all his predilection for voy- 
age and discovery, he did not enlist in any of the ex- 
citing enterprises of the day, till the failure of his 
commercial employments left him no other resource. 

Tliere was nothing sufficiently striking in his per- 
sonal appearance to command attention in the Span- 



72 DISCOVERERS AJTD PIOITEEES OF AMERICA. 

isli cities, already teeming with grandees and knights 
who outshone lesser lights. Yespiicius was retiring 
and gentle in his deportment ; he possessed none of 
the dignity of address that made the presence of Co- 
lumbus so imposing ; he was better calculated to cul- 
tivate friendship than to command the adulation of 
the public. He was of medium height, thick-set and 
brawny. His forehead was low and retreating, but 
of remarkable breadth. His eyes were large and 
dark, his nose aquiline, and his mouth expressive both 
of firmness and amiability. His complexion was 
dark, and his hair black, thickly sprinkled with grey ; 
he always wore a bushy beard. Such is the descrip- 
tion given of him at the time of his arrival in Spain, 
though a preserved portrait was taken at a much la- 
ter period of life. 

After some time spent in transacting the affairs 
with which he had been commissioned at Barcelona, 
he repaired to Seville, and, it is supposed, became 
a participator with Berardi, in contracts with the 
Spanish government, for fitting out armaments to be 
sent on voyages of discovery. These occupations 
gave new zest to his speculations. When Columbus 
returned from his first voyage, he sought interviews, 
which must have been full of intense interest and ex- 
citement to both, though their opinions essentially 
differed. Columbus believed he had arrived at the 
dominions of the Grand Khan, described by Marco 
Polo, an^ that he should soon discover Paradise, 
which the most learned divines believed still existed 



AMERICUS VESPUCIUS. To 

upon the earth. Vespucius argued that the rich 
countries he sought lay far beyond those already 
brought to light, and that, though the paradisiacal 
regions might l)e in the vicinity of the balmy islands 
of the Indies, yet a great body of water separated 
them from the anticipated continent. His calm rea- 
sons brought him to more just conclusions than re- 
sulted from the researches of the inspired and enthu- 
siastic Columbus, who saw everything in the decep- 
tive light of a vivid imagination. 

The death of Berardi, in 1495, left to Yespucius 
the settlement of his affairs, which seems to have oc- 
cupied him nearly two years. His employment by 
the government brought him in contact with its offi- 
cers, one of the principal of whom. Bishop Fonseca, 
manifested much interest in him. It was probably 
he who obtained his appointment to " assist " in dis- 
coveries and accompany an expedition (which is as- 
serted to have occurred in 1497,) somewhat in the 
position of agent of the king. He was not the com- 
mander of the fleet, and seems to have acted a sub- 
ordinate part in the enterprise. K the voyage was 
made, therefore, and if the discovery of Paria was 
the result, he was no more entitled to the consequent 
honors than the person or persons whom he accom- 
panied to " assist ; " else why was he not recognized 
and honored as the discoverer by Ferdinand and 
Fonseca, both of whom were ready to foil the claims 
of Columbus ? A man of the nialignant hatred and 
artful cunning of Fonseca, never would have permit- 
D 



74 DISCO VERE US .VXD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

ted tlie deserved honors of a favorite to be bestowed 
upon one whom he bitterly hated. JSTeither would 
private considerations have been likely to despoil 
him of the coveted fame of discovering a continent, 
as is urged by one of his biographers. 

On the other hand, it is difhcult to believe that a 
man of the acknowledged integrity of Yespucius, 
should have attempted such a de-ception, or, if he had 
been a wolf in sheep's clothing, that he should have 
been so short-sighted as to advance claims that could 
easily be charged with falsity.' Perhaps succeeding 
generations may smooth the knotted thread which 
the learned of several centuries have patiently sought 
to straighten, and have only succeeded in more thor- 
oughly entangling. 

The disputed letter was written to Piero Soderini, 
one who had been a fellow-student in the convent of 
Vespucci, and who, in his fifty-second year, had been 
elected president of the Florentine republic, under 
the title of Perpetual Gonfaloniere, in place of the 
banished Medici family. Yespucius states to him 
that an account of his voyages " was formerly written 
in barbarous style, destitute of the polish of litera- 
ture, and directed to Don Ferdinand, king of Castile." 

He relates of his first voyage that he sailed from 
the port of Cadiz, the tenth of May, 1497, as an as- 
sistant in the expected discoveries, and " with four 
ships in company." Favorable winds bore them to 
the shores of the New World, in twenty-seven days. 
As soon as they beheld land, preparations were made 



AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 75 

to go on shore, for, although there was no convenient 
or safe harbor, curiosity and wonder prevailed. The 
ship was anchored a league and a half from the shore, 
the boats were lowered, and quickly manned by those 
who were eager to behold the famed wonders of a 
'New World and a new race. Distant glimpses of 
human beings fleeing along the shore and hiding 
themselves in the woods, assured them that the coast 
was inhabited; but, by the time they touched the 
shore, not a living creature was to be seen, and no- 
thing remained to gratify their curiosity but the gi- 
gantic vegetation, and the innumerable birds of gor- 
geous plumage that flitted among the towering trees. 
The look of deserted luxuriance, and the profound 
silence that prevailed, sent them back to the ships, 
half inclined to believe they had been enticed by crea- 
tures of the imagination. 

The four caravels set sail in search of a safe harbor. 
During the two days of coasting that followed, they 
again beheld, all along the shore, hosts of savages as- 
sembled in groups, to consult upon the nature of the 
wonderful apparition, or running swiftly along the 
beach, to keep pace with the winged monsters that 
skimmed over the sea within sight. 

The ships anchored in a jDlace of safety, and again 
the boats were manned and sent ashore. As before, 
the natives fled in terror from the strange beings, of 
whose size and shape they could form no notion, 
by reason of the full Spanish robes, frills, slouched 
hats and plumes; nor, unused as they were to the 



76 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

sight of clothing, could they quite determine if the 
brilliant costumes grew with the bodies or not. 
They fled to the neighboring hills, and could not be 
induced to approach till after a long parley by signs, 
at a safe distance. Little by little, and with a timid- 
ity that was startled at every movement, they ven- 
tured at last to behold the strangers nearer, and re- 
ceive the trinkets which they regarded as of inesti- 
mable value. Night approaching, the Spaniards 
returned to their ships. 

The next morning the shore was lined with crowds of 
natives, waiting to welcome their marvelous visitors, 
and evincing their good will by having brought with 
them burdens of magnificent plumes, necklaces offish- 
bones, and nose and ear ornaments of green and white 
stones, beside abundant provisions. The utmost good 
feeling prevailed. The Spaniards were busied in no- 
ting the peculiar customs of the savages, of so volup- 
tuous a nature that Americus decided them to be an 
Epicurean race. The natives, in their turn, were 
equally bewildered and amused with the Spaniards 
and their ships, and unwillingly beheld them depart 
from their shores. 

After coasting for some distance, the caravels were 
again anchored in a harbor where the modern Yene- 
zuela stands. The voyagers beheld with astonishment 
a village built like the " City of Bridges," over the 
water. The houses were bell-shaped and communi- 
cated with each other by drawbridges, which, upon 
the appearance of the strangers, were instantly raised, 



AMEKicrs VESPucrus. 7T 

tliG inhabitants concealing themselves in their singu- 
lar fortresses. At length, a little fleet of canoes dart- 
ed out from a hidden cove, filled with Indians, who 
swiftly approached the ships. Thej reconnoitred the 
caravels a few moments, then returned to the shore 
as swiftly as they came, and fled to the hills. They 
were not long invisible, for, with multiplied numbers, 
they again flocked to the beach and threw themselves 
into their canoes, or into the sea, and glided speedily 
towards the ships. 

The Spaniards were delighted with this proof of 
confidence and friendship, but, upon a certain signal, 
they were confounded to behold the naked hosts sud- 
denly bristling with weapons which had been adroitly 
concealed in the water. A battle ensued, with little 
harm on either side, but which induced the unwel- 
come intruders to pursue their voyage, and seek more 
amicable shores. Several weeks were occupied in 
communicating with the savages, along the coast and 
a short distance in the interior. In a fierce battle 
that occurred in one of the ports, they took two 
hundred and fifty prisoners, to be sold in Spain for 
slaves, and witii these they decided to sail homeward. 

Their arrival at Cadiz created no sensation, and no 
mention whatever was made of the alleged discovery. 
But when, three months afterwards, ships arrived 
from Hispaniola with letters from Columbus, giving 
an account of his voyage to Paria, all Spain was fired 
with new enthusiasm, and the disasters of the colony 
of Isabella we-^e forgotten in the reawakened ardor 



78 DISCOVEKERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

for adventure and riches. If Araericus had already- 
explored the same coast, why did not Ferdinand, jeal- 
ous as he was of the privileges he had granted to Co- 
lumbus, make known the antecedent claims of Ves- 
pucius ? And what private considerations could have 
deterred the inveterate hatred of Fonseca from seiz- 
ing such an opportunity to lessen the fame of the 
distinguished Genoese? 

Arrangements were immediately made for Yespu- 
cius to accompany an expedition over the same route. 
He was with dilficulty prevailed upon to engage in 
it, as he had just formed ties that strongly attracted 
him to a more settled life. During his residence at 
Seville, he had formed an attachment to Donna Ma- 
ria Cerezo, a resident of that city ; the engagement 
that ensued was not consummated till after his return 
from his first voyage, owing probably to reverses 
of fortune. Soon after his marriage, he repaired to 
court, where he was graciously received by Ferdi- 
nand, and was the object of marked favor from Bish- 
op Fonseca. 

Alonzo de Ojeda, who had accompanied Columbus 
on his second voyage, was then at court without em- 
ployment. His love of wild adventure, and the 
straitened means to which he had been reduced by 
his recklessness, suggested the idea of following up 
the discoveries of Columbus, and enriching himself 
with the promised spoils. Fonseca had possession 
of the maps and charts indicating the route, and im- 
mediately delivered them to Ojeda, encouraging him 



AMEKICUS YESPUCIUS. 79 

at the same time to take the command of an expedi- 
tion which he would see provided, though in dishon- 
orable violation of the royal interdiction of private 
adventure. The bishop knew enough of the secret 
perfidy of Ferdinand, not to hesitate in prosecuting 
plans that would interfere with the interests of Co- 
lumbus. 

He issued a commission on his own responsibility, 
giving Ojeda license to explore the coast of Paria and 
adjacent countries, with a few restrictions. Ojeda. 
was in his own element while preparing this maraud- 
ing enterprise, iii Avhich he fully believed he should 
acquire fame and fortune, and at the same time grat- 
ify his Quixotic spirit. Being an inexperienced nav- 
igator, however, he induced Americus Yespucius and 
Juan de la Cosa, both reputedly skilled in nautical 
aifairs, to accompany his fleet. Four vessels were 
soon equipped in the Bay of Cadiz, at a little ]3ort 
called St. Mary. Forces were readily obtained to 
man the vessels, as the enthusiasm was sufficient to 
entice even the haggard, disappointed mariners who 
had just dragged themselves from the impoverished 
and distracted colony at Hispaniola. 

By the eighteenth of May, 1499, the fleet set sail, ' 
wholly under the command of Ojeda. Americus 
seems to have held a position similar to that in his 
first voyage, and, through the self-conceit of Cosa, 
must havo been overruled by him in matters of consul- 
tation. Americus was modest and retiring in his de-' 
portment, while the hardy veteran, Juan de la Cosa, 



80 DISCOVEKEES AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

lield himself equal to Columbus. He exercised a pa- 
ternal influence over Ojeda, remonstrating at one 
moment with the headlong, reckless, hot-headed fa- 
vorite, and, at the next, rushing with him into what- 
ever dangers his rashness carried him, intent only 
upon watching over his safety. At once a parent, a 
counselor, and a partisan, he guarded him, expostu- 
lated with him, and fought for him. Instigated by a 
warm attachment, " this wary veteran," in the words 
of an eloquent historian, " forgetting his usual pru- 
dence and the lessons of his experience, embarked, 
heart and hand, purse and person, in the wild enter- 
prises of his favorite." To his last hour, he followed 
Ojeda, and sacrificed his life in defending him. 

These were the companions with whom Americus 
again ventured to the New World, or beheld it for 
the first time. The similarity of occurrences during 
this voyage with the account of his previous one, in- 
duces some of his biographers to charge him with 
fabricating the first out of the second. Howevei' that 
may be, the voyage prosecuted with Ojeda is without 
dispute, and during this he worked out a problem 
which would have rescued his name from oblivion, 
had no credit been given him for the discovery of 
America. 

In forty -four days after leaving Cadiz, they arrived 
at the South American continent, after touching at 
intervening islands. Americus gives an interesting 
account of interviews with the natives, and of their 
customs. Upon an island near the coast, he found 



AMEKICTJS VESPUCIUS. 81 

a people who wore two gourds fastened about the 
neck, one contaiumg green herbs, the other a kind of 
meal, with which thej alternately filled their mouths 
till they were scarcely able to speak. They constantly 
chewed the mixture, " as beasts chew the cud." He 
adds, " "VVe were surprised at their conduct, and could 
not understand for what purpose they indulged in the 
nauseous practice." If Vespucius and his compan- 
ions could revisit American shores in this century, 
they might add to their quaint manuscripts, descrip- 
tions of a people who not only continually " chew 
vile herbs," but protrude from their lips rolls of dried 
weed, perpetually burning and enveloping them in 
clouds of smoke, which they watch in ecstacies of de- 
light as it rolls and curls before their dreamy vision, 
till, pervaded by a delicious langour, or soothed by 
its magnetic power, their feet gradually obey a law 
like that which governs the needle, and point towards 
some polar star. In more respects than one would 
not Americus' descriptions of his modern namesakes 
have appeared grotesque to themselves ? 

These islanders obtained fresh water only by gath- 
ering leaves filled with dew, from a plant which 
must have resembled the pitcher-plant. Having nei- 
ther wigwams nor huts, they employed the simplest 
mechanism to obtain a domicil. They plucked an 
immense leaf from a tree, thrust its stem into the 
ground, and crept under the green tent, each one a 
sole possessor of his ample shelter ; if the rain in- 
commoded them, umbrellas hung plentifully from the 

D* 6 



82 DISCOVEREES AlsB PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

branches that gave them houses ; if the sun oppressed 
them while they gathered fish from the sea, the same 
green canopy curtained their canoes. Blissful in their 
ignorance, and with no care for to-morrow, life was 
to them but a voluptuous existence, and death a mys- 
tery they could not fathom. 

The next island at which the Spaniards touched, is 
supposed to have been Curazao. From its loneliness 
and silence, they presumed it to be uninhabited, but, 
upon landing, beheld a large footprint in the sand, 
about which they gathered with wonder and conjec- 
tures, that increased at every attempt to fit its huge 
proportions to their own size. After wandering near- 
ly a league's distance along the shore, and through 
the forest, they discovered " cottages " in a deep 
valley, occupied by Amazon-like females, of giant 
forms. A party of warriors, of towering height, 
bearing immense weapons, soon gathered in from the 
woods. The pale-faced, gayly-dressed Spaniards 
caused them as much curiosity and fear as the dimin- 
utive Leprechauns inspire in the Green Isle ; and 
the voyagers breathed freely, only when they had es- 
caped the settlement, and placed a safe distance be- 
tween them and the giants, who followod them to the 
shore. As they pushed o& for the ship, a shower of 
heavy arrows whizzed towards them, but fell harm- 
lessly in the track of their swiftly receding boat. A 
returning discharge of guns sent the terrified Indians 
on a speedy race for the forests 2Jid hills, leaving the 
voyagers to proceed unmolested Succeeding discov • 



AMERicus vESPrcros. 83 

erers assert that the inhabitants of that island Avere 
of the ordinary size ; Yespucius, therefore, must 
have drawn largely npon his imagination. 

Many of the events of the voyage were entirely 
similar to those narrated of the first. Irving unhesi- 
tatingly combines the two, thus divesting Americus of 
all claims to the discovery of the continent, and per- 
mits Irim to coast Paria for the first time with Ojeda. 

After exploring the Gulf of Venezuela and sailing 
along the coast as far as Cape de la Yela, Ojeda de- 
cided to direct his little fleet to Hispaniola, though in 
violation of his commission. Thinking to excuse his 
infringement of the articles by the necessity of re- 
pairing his ships and obtaining provisions, he entered 
the harbor of Yaquimo. As he made no announce- 
ment of his arrival to Columbus, then at San Domin- 
go, and as report assured the admiral of Ojeda's in- 
tention to cut dye-woods and seize the natives for 
slaves, a party was immediately dispatched from San 
Domingo, to demand an explanation of the clandes- 
tine visit. 

Roldan, the crafty, intrepid and impudent leader 
of faction in the new colonies, after gaining all he 
required from Columbus, adopted the policy of ato- 
ning for his rebellion by some act of loyalty. He 
readily accepted the admiral's appointment as leader 
of the expedition — a selection made solely to divert 
his mischievous talent. He sailed with two caravels 
to the western end of the island, intercepted Ojeda 



84 DISCO VEEEES AITD PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

and his exploring party, and boldly demanded the 
reasons of his stolen visit. The two were well met, 
being equally daring, resolute and cunning. Several 
days passed in various manoeuvres on both sides, but 
neither gained the advantage. Ojeda and his party 
finally had recourse to their ships, and put off to oth- 
er islands, in quest of slaves with which to freight 
their vessels. * 

With a full cargo of Indian captives, they set sail 
for Spain, and, after a voyage of a month and a half, 
entered the bay of Cadiz — not without the mortifica- 
tion of beholding, anchored in the same port, an in- 
significant armament which had sailed after and re- 
turned before Ojeda, richly laden with pearls and 
gold, while his own success had been so meagre that 
only five hundred ducats remained to be distributed 
among his fifty-five followers. 

Americus certainly did not better his fortunes in 
this enterprise. But his reputation as a learned and 
skillful navigator, secured a flattering reception at 
court by Ferdinand, and the patronage of the wily 
Bishop Fonseca. The merchants of Seville, to whom 
Yespucius was well known, undismayed by the fail- 
ure of the expedition he had accompanied, offered to 
fit out a fleet with which he should prosecute discov- 
eries, and, at the same time, reap the fancied harvests 
that lay along the South American shores. But while 
the preparations were being made, some unexplaina- 
ble circumstances decided Americus to abandon the 



AMEKICUS VESPUCIUS. 8o 

service of Spain. About the same time, a message 
was brought him from the king of Portugal, desiring 
him to accompany a newly projected enterprise. 

The contention between Spain and Portugal, con- 
cerning the accidental discovery of Brazil, by Cabral, 
a year previous, had just been settled, and the ac- 
counts which Yespucius had written of his voyage 
with Ojeda, assured king Emmanuel that a greater 
and richer extent of country had fallen to his share, 
than Cabral had led him to believe. Desirous of in- 
ducing Yespucius to enter his service, and explore 
these newly acquired regions, he wrote an urgent let- 
ter offering him splendid rewards. 

Americus was then residing at Seville, a city whose 
beautiful site was the boast of all Spain. Its horizon 
is bounded by mountains, and the plain in which it 
stands is covered with olive plantations, hamlets and 
convents. The Guadalquiver winds through the plain 
and washes the base of the walls of Seville. The 
commercial advantages of the city had first attracted 
Americus ; the wealth and liberality of its merchants, 
their appreciation of his merits, and its having been 
the early home of his wife, induced him to make it 
his residence when in Spain. 

Here the royal messenger found him and awaited 
his decision for several days. During his wanderings 
on the shores of the ISTew World, he had contracted 
a disease which his hardy constitution had not yet 
mastered ; it detracted from his energies and usual 
decision ot character, and caused him to waver in re- 



86 DISCO VEREES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

gard to the plans laid before Mm. Having exhausted 
the patience of the messenger, and still unwilling to 
desert Ferdinand, y-et equally averse to losing the 
brilliant opportunity of fame and fortune before him, 
he sent the indefinite repl}^, that he would think more 
seriously of the project when his health was fully re- 
stored. 

King Emmanuel, finding him irresolute, determined 
to win his consent, and immediately despatched Juli- 
ano Giocondo, an Italian resident of Lisbon, to urge 
his acceptance. He was so successful that he re- 
turned accompanied by Americus, who, in opposition 
to the advice of friends, and without saluting his sov- 
ereign, departed hastily and secretly for Portugal. 
Emmanuel was rejoiced at this distingushed addition 
to the corps of his navigators. He was intent upon 
retrieving the losses Portugal had experienced, by 
its refusal of Columbus. He welcomed Yespu- 
cius gladly, and directly empowered him to fit out a 
fleet. 

Three caravels were soon thoroughly equipped in 
the port of Lisbon. The flow of the Tagus into the 
bay formed a bar against the ocean, that rendered the 
near approach of ships to the city extremely danger- 
ous. Lisbon rises like an amphitheatre on the right 
bank of the Tagus, close upon the bay, and is guard- 
ed by two forts, one upon an island at the mouth of 
the river, the other upon its banks. In this busy 
and magnificent port, Americus superintended the 
outfit of :he expedition ; he was not appointed to the 



AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 87 

■jommand, but, from his own account, had its nautical 
management. 

On the thirteenth of May, 1501, the three caravels 
set sail from Lisbon, for " the land of pearls," with a 
gay crew, full of glowing expectations. After coast- 
ing the shores of Africa and touching at the Cana- 
ries, they put out into the broad ocean, where, for 
nearly three months, they were tossed hither and 
thither, by the winds and the waves. Terrific storms 
followed each other in close succession, and the sky 
was so completely overshadowed with black clouds, 
that they could see but little better during the day 
than in ordinary nights. To add to their distress and 
exhaustion, the provisions and water had failed ; 
threatened thus with famine and shipwreck, and hav- 
ing lost their way in the unknown seas, no hope re- 
mained of again beholding terra Jirma, and they 
gave themselves up to lamentation and despair. 

At this crisis, Americus acquired no little glory 
from his companions by the exercise of his superior 
knowledge. Employing his astralobe and quadrant, 
he ascertained their position, and, soon after obeyino" 
his directions, land was descried in the distance. Re- 
lieved from dreadful suspense and fear, they knelt, 
gave thanks to God, and, with returning vigor, sped 
towards the fair continent that gradually swelled up- 
on their sight in unequalled luxuriance and fertility. 
Upon uearing the shores, they marveled at the gi- 
gantic vegetation, for which those lands are remarka- 
ble. The trees of immense magnitude, often covered 



88 DISCO VEBEE8 AND PIONEERS OF AMEElCA. 

witli gorgeous blossoms, the brilliantly-plumaged 
birds, whose gaudy wings were often confounded with 
the clustered blossoms, and the softness of the cli- 
mate, the more welcome after rude buffetings with 
storms at sea, inclined them to believe they had 
at last arrived at the paradisiacal regions, so eagerly 
sought by every voyager from the Old World. 

Communication with the Indians, who lined the 
shore, was not difficult, from the fact that their villa- 
ges lay mostly along the beach. The dense forests, 
rendered almost impassable by a thick, tangled 
growth of underbrush, were left to wild beasts, with 
whom the natives rarely ventured to combat, being 
unprotected by shields, bucklers, or any kind of clo- 
thing. 

Americus seems to have been inclined to believe 
that this race bad discovered the secret of prolonging 
existence to an age equal to that of the patriarchs of old. 
Some could point out their descendants to the fourth 
generation, and informed Vespucius of their great age, 
by bringing him stones to represent the number of 
moons which they had seen, one thus laying claim to 
one hundred and thirty-two years. Their faces were 
frightfully disfigured, the flesh being perforated and 
filled with colored stones, or white and green alabas- 
ter, while rings, fish bones, and stones hung from their 
lips, noses and ears. They valued nothing so highly 
as these ornaments and the gay plumes with which 
they decorated their persons ; gold and pearls they 
readily yielded to the avaricious Spaniards, receiving 



AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 89 

trifles in return, and wondering among themselves at 
the eagerness with which the precious objects were 
sought. 

The apparent wealth of the country, its gigantic 
forests perfuming the breezes with spicy odors, the 
mighty rivers flooding into the ocean, the serene cli- 
mate, the new and wonderfully brilliant stars and un- 
known constellations, the " celestial arch " occasion- 
ally perceived by them with admiration, though, to 
us, an ordinary phenomenon known as the halo of the 
moon — all impressed them with an idea of magni- 
tude, riches, beauty and novelty that, with the help 
of imagination, led them to extol the splendors and 
treasures of the Kew World as unequalled and inex- 
haustible. The pen of Americus was never wearied 
in transcribing the wonders of the magnificent king- 
doms, added to the possessions of the monarchs whom 
he served ; he was indefatigable too, in his labor of 
applying astronomical science to navigation. Night 
after night he watched, with sleepless eyes, the glit- 
tering sky, gazed in transport upon the countless host 
of stars, numbered the most brilliant, watched "the 
vapors and burning flames flashing across the heav- 
ens," carefully noted the conjunction of the moon 
with the planets, and successfully applied it to the 
fixing of longitude at sea ; proudly assuring and sus- 
taining himself by the consciousness that this last 
crowning efiort placed him foremost in the rank of 
science, and that by means of it his fame would live 
through ages. 



90 DISCOTEKT^rvS \N-T) PIOIirEEKS OF AISEEEICA. 

The commander of the fleet resigned its direction 
to Americus, after having explored the coast satisfac- 
torily ; all engaged in the voyage wished to explore 
the ocean, and discover land still more luxuriant and 
more abundant in golden resources ; and there was 
none on board the fleet better capable of safely gui- 
ding them to the distant regions they anticipated, 
than Americus. He accepted the command, pre- 
pared the ships for a long voyage, and turned their 
course southward. They swept swiftly over several 
hundred leagues, till they beheld, with astonishment, 
the polar star and the surrounding constellations sink 
below the horizon, and, instead, looked upon a broad 
expanse of sky, illumined with unknown groups of 
stars that bewildered all their preconceived ideas of 
the limited circle of the heavens and earth. Ameri- 
cus reveled and luxuriated in the magnificent spec- 
tacle that nightly greeted his gaze. The studded 
canopy seemed slowly to unfurl from the ocean's hor- 
izon, revealing hosts of brilliant " Canojpi " of which 
he exultingly and carefully took note, firmly believ- 
ing that this great and unexpected addition to astro- 
nomical science, would bequeath his name to immor- 
tality. 

Attracted by the novelty, and, with a vague hope of 
exceeding all the discoveries of the age, he pressed 
forward over the rufiled sea, till the light caravels had 
outsailed the serene atmosphere of the tropics and 
emerged into a region of cloud and storm, that tossed 
and rocked them rudely about, and finally drifted the 



AMEEICTJ8 VESrUCIUS. 91 

frail fleet towards wild, barren shores, whose dreary 
aspect held out no promises of the riches they sought. 
The cold became severe ; sleet and mists blinded the 
shivering sailors, and the^ Italian-born Americus 
shrank from cold star-gazing, and despaired of arri- 
ving, in so uncongenial a climate, at countries which 
he had promised himself should rival the wealth of 
the Indies. He gladly yielded his temporary com- 
mand to the '• superior captain," who immediately 
gave the signal to turn about, and steer in the direc- 
tion of Portugal. Days and nights of darkness and 
tempest ensued ; numberless vows of pilgrimage were 
made by the alarmed mariners, and every known 
charm and superstition employed to subdue the angry 
waves. At length they moved in a more tranquil 
sea, where mild, soft breezes filled the sails and waft- 
ed the voyagers cheerily onward to their coveted 
homes. 

The safe arrival of the weather-beaten ships at Lis- 
bon, occasioned unusual manifestations of joy. Loud 
acclamations greeted Americus when he landed, and 
the enthusiastic populace accompanied him through 
the streets to the place where King Emmanuel await- 
ed him. Magnificent preparations were quickly 
made to honor him ; sumptuous entertainments fol- 
lowed each other in splendid rivalry, and when every 
ordinary mode of distinction was exhausted, the ship 
In which he had sailed, having become unseaworthy, 
was taken to pieces, and portions of it carried in sol- 
emn, pompous pjocession to a church, where, with 



92 DISCOVERERS AND PIOlSrEERS OF AHERICA. 

mucli ceremony, they were suspended as revered rel- 
ics. Intelligence of his extensive discoveries was 
sent by royal command to Italy, where similar re- 
joicings occurred, to honor the success of a proudly 
acknowledged countryman. His family at Florence 
were invested with honorable dignities, in token of 
regard to him. 

Americus reposed upon his laurels but a few 
months, at Seville. King Emmanuel was too ambi- 
tious to compete with Spain in the discovery of a 
passage to India, to permit his most distinguished 
and experienced navigator to remain idle. A new 
fleet was directly fitted out; the command of one 
ship was given to Americus, and the chief command 
of the six that composed the squa'dron, bestowed upon 
Gonzalo Coelho. The latter proved a stubborn, pre- 
sumptuous man and inexperienced pilot. As soon 
as the fleet had sailed, he conceived the idea of di- 
verging from the intended route and coasting Sierra 
Leone, though in opposition to the united wishes of 
the subordinate officers, and, as Yespucius writes, 
" without there being any necessity for it, unless to 
exhibit himself as the captain of six vessels." 

A severe storm, which kept them at bay for seve- 
ral days, decided Gonzalo to proceed on the voyage, 
without landing on the coast of Africa. They sailed 
three hundred leagues before discovering land. 
When at last an island of high, dark-grey rocks rose 
from the sCc* before them, they reconnoitred it with 
wonder. Obstinately determined upon a near ap 



AMEKICUS VESPUCIUS. 93 

proacli, Gonzalo bore clown upon the fatal island. 
The ship, carried forward bj a brisk breeze, struck 
with violence npon a rock, which split her from stem 
to stern, and she instantly sank to the bottom with 
everything most important to the fleet. The captain 
and crew barely had time to escape. 

In consequence of this disaster, Americus was ap- 
pointed to go in search of a safe harbor, but Gonzalo 
retained his boat, with more than half of his men, for 
the service of the fleet. He was successful in findino* 
a good harbor, and patiently awaited the arrival of 
the remaining ships. Eight days passed without 
sight of a sail ; the crew were fllled with anxiety at 
the thought of being deserted, or the more fearful 
suggestion that their companions had perished ; to be 
left alone on the wide ocean, hundreds of leagues 
from Lisbon, and in a vessel but half manned, was 
no trifling cause of fear. Americus could not con- 
sole the terrified crew, and was at a loss whether to 
venture out at sea, or to remain longer at the unin- 
habited and dreary island. To the infinite joy and 
relief of all, a distant sail was at length discovered, 
and, fearing lest it should pass without perceiving 
them, Americus ordered the ship to be put to sea. 

The vessel they went out to meet proved to be one 
of the fleet, but they were told that the captain had 
gone to the bottom, that his crew had been saved, 
and that the remaining caravels had continued the 
voyage. Americus was disheartened at these rever- 
ses of fortune, yet, with his insufiicient crew, deter- 



94 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA- 

mined to accompany the one found ship, to ^.he lands 
he had discovered on his previous voyage. Provi- 
dentially, they had fair weather, which enabled them 
to reach the Bay of All Saints in safety. Americus 
then awaited the expected fleet two months, but no- 
thing being seen of it, he ventured to explore the 
coast. The result of this cruise was of but little im- 
portance. The caravels were anchored in a favorable 
port, a fortress was built on shore, and provided with a 
garrison, composed of Gonzalo's rescued crew ; the 
ships were then loaded with a valuable cargo of dye- 
wood, and made ready for a return to the Old World. 
The sturdy mariners, who had been saved from an 
ocean grave only t) share a worse fate among an un- 
tamed race, beheld the swelling sails bear away their 
companions, with mingled feelings of regret and ex- 
ultation, half believing they should never be reunited 
to their countrymen, yet buoyed with the hope of re- 
turning to Portugal some day, loaded with Brazilian 
gems and gold. But their voices, that flung out a 
farewell to the departing crews, never sent up a ring- 
ins: hail of welcome. The caravels bouaded over the 
foaming ocean, and wave after wave rolled between 
them and the shore, concealing forever those who 
gazed after the disappearing sails. The next Euro- 
pean vessel that coasted Brazil, heard only the shouts 
of cannibal savages, along the beach where the adven- 
turers had chosen their home. 

Vespucius arrived at Lisbon, after a long, tempest- 
uous voyage. The inhabitants were filled with as- 



AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 95 

tonisliment at beholding his ship anchored in the bay, 
for tidings had been received of the loss of the whole 
fleet. He was welcomed as one risen from the dead. 
Unbounded rejoicings attended his arrival, but he 
scarcely waited to receive the honors intended for 
him, in his impatience to return to Seville. He had 
been installed in his old home only a short time, 
when a command from Ferdinand summoned him to 
court. The death of the revered and almost wor- 
shiped queen, about the time of the arrival of Amer- 
icus at Lisbon, had a far different effect upon his for- 
tunes, than u]3on those of the noble, but persecuted 
Columbus. The latter was protected and encouraged 
by Isabella, who ever recognized genius, and venera- 
ted goodness. An upright, pure, exalted soul is at- 
tracted to its kind, with an unfailing instinct, and in 
the same proportion is repelled from a mean, crafty 
spirit. The sincere, lofty-minded Columbus had the 
sympathy of the good and just Isabella, in spite of 
the barriers which scowling confessors and bigoted 
advisers raised between them ; while the enmity har- 
bored toward him, by the soulless Ferdinand, and 
the intriguing Fonseca, was indisputable. That 
Americus was on no occasion countenanced by Is- 
abella — that her death was the signal of his return 
to court, and of his immediate promotion, and that Fer- 
dinand and Fonseca were his ready sympathisers 
and patrons, from the first — disturbs confidence in 
his integrity of character, upon which the strongest 
argument for the reality of his first voyage is based. 



96 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

Columbus, however, who was also at Seville at this 
time, confined by a torturing illness of body and 
mind, entertained a friendship for him, and names 
him " an honorable man." He had sufficient confi- 
dence in him to entrust the pleading of his cause at 
court to his discretion and eloquence — a commission 
of which there is no account of his having executed ; 
also, upon the departure of Americus from Seville, in 
obedience to Ferdinand's command, he gave him a 
letter to his son, Diego, wherein Columbus mentioned 
his rival in high terms of commendation. 

Americus immediately set out for Segovia, where 
the Spanish court was held. Mounted upon his mule, 
he soon left behind the towering walls of Seville, 
crossed the luxurious plain that surrounds it, left the 
windings of the Guadalquiver, and was soon journey- 
ing over the cool Sierra Navada, and across the rich 
valleys and vineyard slopes beyond. It was a long, 
but picturesque, and varied journey, from Seville to 
Segovia. Wild, rocky districts, and strips of forest, 
intervened with villages, hamlets, convents, and cas- 
tles ; streams winding down from the mountains, 
plains overrun with the olive or grape-vine, or trees 
laden with delicious fruit, successively greeted the 
eye of the traveler. But Americus hastened past 
them all, barely resting in the gloomy, walled towns 
which lay in his way, and speedily pursued his route, 
anxious and doubtful as to what awaited him. 

His uncivil and abrupt departure from the service 
of Ferdinand, several years previous, might justly 



AMEKICUS VESPUCIUS. J ( 

have given offence to a king who demanded the most 
punctilious etiquette and scrupulous obedience. But 
the sight of the distant turrets of the Alcazar of Se- 
govia, was not unwelcome. He traversed the plain 
of Azoquejo, and passed beneath the arches of the 
gigantic aqueduct of Trajan, thrown across it to the 
hill upon which Segovia is perched ; then over the 
bridged Eresma, which flows at the base of the hill, 
and at length he entered the gates of the city. 

The gayety of the court had given place to quie- 
tude and marks of mourning for the death of Isabella. 
Anxiety, speculation, and uncertainty, were depicted 
upon the countenances of those who had looked to 
her for the interests of Castile ; but the creatures of 
Ferdinand, mingled a secret feeling of exultation at 
the removal of a felt restraint, with regret for the loss 
of a universally beloved queen. Americus present- 
ed himself at this sombre court, previously assured 
of the favorable intention of the monarch. Ferdinand 
received him graciously, forgiving the marked slight 
and disrespect of his past conduct, and, not only con- 
gratulated him upon his increasing fame, but in con- 
sideration of his former services to the crown, made 
him a grant of twelve thousand marvedis, and issued 
letters of naturalization in his behalf. He was thus 
qualified to serve as a commander in the service of 
Spain. 

Ferdinand's chief object in thus rewarding him, 
was to secure to himself the services of one of the 
ablest pavigators and cosmographers of that age, 
E 7 



98 DISCOVERERS A^D PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

whose name was already beginning to be applied to 
the Brazilian portion of the New World. Columbus 
had grown old and infirm, and had just gone down to 
the grave in poverty, obscurity, and grief, at his un- 
rewarded and unacknowledged toil. His withheld 
honors were heaped upon Americus. 

Having made sure of his services, Ferdinand im- 
mediately gave orders for preparations for a new ex- 
pedition to Brazil. Yincente Yanez Pinzon, one of 
the three brothers who assisted Columbus in his first 
voyage, was appointed associate commander. The 
fleet was to consist of two large ships, and a caravel, 
to serve as tender to the others. Americus depart- 
ed for Palos, to consult with Pinzon, upon arrange- 
ments for the enterprize ; both, for several months, 
were wholly engaged in collecting provisions and 
equipment for the voyage ; but, whichever way they 
turned, difficulties retarded all their preparations. 

The arrival of Philip and Joanna in Spain, and 
their accession to the throne of Castile, occasioned an 
entire change in all the departments of government. 
The interests of the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon 
were united, but the disagreement of the respective 
sovereigns, Ferdinand and Philip, rendered the posi- 
tion of the governmental officers extremely embarrass- 
ing. The board of trade, entrusted with the affairs 
of the new expedition, could adopt no further meas- 
ures for its completion, lest either monarch slionld be 
offeuded. Perplexed and annoyed at the delay, 
Americus went to Burgos, where the court was then 



AMEKIOUS VESPUCIUS. 99 

held, to lay documents, from the board, befoie Ferdi- 
nand, and to obtain peremptory measures for the 
completion of the armament. He had scarcely arrived, 
when the sudden death of King Philip was proclaim- 
ed in the streets of Burgos. This unexpected occur- 
rence suspended all public undertakings. The inca- 
pacity of the insane Joanna to succeed him, and the 
unpopularity of Ferdinand in Castile, occasioned con- 
fusion throughout the kingdom. The remaining 
monarch had neither time nor inclination to attend 
to other than internal affairs ; Americus was, there- 
fore, unheard. 

Soon after, complaints and suspicions, on the part 
of the King of Portugal, in regard to the destination 
of the fleet, decided Ferdinand to abandon the expe- 
dition entirely, as his dominions were not in a condi- 
tion to get embroiled with a jealous neighbor. This 
decision was a severe disappointment to Americus. 
The useless outlay of a large capital, and the lost ex- 
penditure of labor and thought, on his own part, was 
sufficiently annoying, to say nothing of the sudden 
check to his ambition. 

Several months afterwiards, he, together with Juan 
de la Cosa, was ordered to attend court to consult 
with Ferdinand and his ministers, in regard to the 
marine affairs of the nation. He ens-ao-ed in no new 
expeditions, but was employed by the government on 
several embassies, for which he received fair remu- 
neration. The remaining years of his life were em- 
ployed in equipping ships which were plying be- 



100 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

tween the old and the new dominions, and in the 
burdensome duties that resulted from his appointment 
to the office of chief pilot. In this capacity, he re- 
ceived an annual salary of seventy-five thousand mar- 
vedis. His time was fully engaged in these occupa- 
tions, for every year increased the tide of emigration, 
that was flowing towards the shores of America. At 
Seville, where Yespucius resided, the effects of the 
enthusiasm for the " land of pearls," were plainly 
visible in the nearly deserted streets ; it is said that 
few were to be seen there beside women and children, 

Nothing is known of the last days of Americus, 
further than that he expired the 22d of February, 
1512. The place of his decease and burial still re- 
mains a subject of dispute. Whether his unrecorded 
grave lies in the tombs of hiS native city, or whether 
he rests in humble obscurity at Seville, or is lost 
among the countless inmates of the sepulchres beneath 
the old chapels and massive cathedrals, is of little mo- 
ment, so long as a shadow rests upon his name. 
When proofs of the honesty of his claims are found 
by some industrious historian, among the mouldering 
chronicles of ancient Spain, it will be time to seek for 
his grave, and gather his ashes to honorable repose. 

It is as unaccountable as it is apparently undeserv- 
ed, that his name should have been giA^en to this con- 
tinent. It is supposed by some, that in constructing 
charts, Americus applied his own name to that por- 
tion of the southern continent known as Brazil, with- 
out a surmise of the extensive signification it would 



AMEEICUS VESPUCIUS. 101 

finally attain. He often expressed a wisli in his let- 
ters, that his name should live after him. Such a 
desire might have induced him to assert his first dis- 
covery of Paria, and afterwards apply his name to 
that, and the adjoining countries he explored. The 
present use of it was not made till full half a century 
after his death. 

Americus possessed none of the brilliant character- 
istics that made heroes of many of his compeers. 
There was nothing imposing in his personal appear- 
ance, nothing startling or attractive in his address, 
and no prominent, bold qualities upon which to 
swing the title of bravado. He was enterprising, 
persevering, and ambitious ; philosophic, unimagina- 
tive, and without superstition ; sensitive, but calm 
and reserved. His opinions, therefore, were based 
upon thorough investigation and deliberate thought, 
and his plans unobtrusively, but steadily, carried out. 
His religion was divested of the ceremonies peculiar 
to the age ; he seemed to regard with pity, the ebulli- 
tions of devotion that every storm at sea occasioned 
among the mariners, and the consequent vows they 
incurred. His own religious emotions were evinced 
in direct acknowledgments to the Supreme Being, for 
daily mercies. 

His name, in this age, rests with a family of five, 
three of whom live in an obscure street of Florence, 
oppressed by poverty, and almost unknown. One 
sister recently gained her own support in Paris, and 
another, the prodigal Ellena, is well known to have 



102 DISCOVERERS ANT) PIOlSrEERS OF AMERICA. 

dishonorably represented her family in America. 
Disappointment and misfortune have attended the 
descendants of Yespncins, and they do not yet behold 
the recognition of his claims, by the nation which 
bears his name. The Providence that so often de- 
crees justice to the dead, even after the lapse of cen- 
turies, has appointed to the neglected, robbed, and 
crushed Columbus, an honored tomb beneath cathe- 
dral arches, and a fame that brightens with time ; 
while to Americus is given an unknown grave, and 
a renown inseparably connected with a continent, 
but unenviable, gathering, as it does, the reproaches 
and disputes of each succeeding generation. 



III. 
FEDOAND DE SOTO. 

The accession of Charles V. to tlie Spanish throne, 
gave fresh impetus to the spirit of discovery ah^eady 
rife on the continent. The honors and rewards which 
he lavishly showered, awakened the genius, conrage 
and ambition of his subjects. 

The love of Quixotic adventure, and the almost 
frantic search after sudden fame and fortune, that had 
been quickened by the knightly and romantic achieve- 
ments under the banners of Ferdinand and Isabella, 
turned from the exhausted novelties of Europe, and 
readily obeyed the new impetus, spanned the " Great 
Ocean," and rooted itself in the vast plains of the 
New World. It sprang from the rank soil to a lord- 
ly height, cast its branches fVir and wide, and bore 
golden fruit that enticed thousands to pluck and taste ; 
but death and desolation lay under its shadow, and 
sweet poison lurked in the tempting fruit. 

Perfidious and cruel conquerors robbed the Mexi- 
can and Peruvian Incas of their glory, and, in their 
turn, became the victims of envious or avaricious fol- 
lowers. WJiile they despoiled the southern cities, 



JO-i DiscoYi-;Ti::n5 and pioxkees of ameeica. 

other adventurers extended the desolating search af- 
ter gold and glory, over the wilds of Florida. Ponce 
de Leon had opened the way to its blooming coasts, 
while seeking for the fabled fountain, whose waters 
might restore youth to his veteran face and whitened 
locks. But he reaped the seeds of death, rather than 
the bloom of immortality. Ayllon closely pursued 
his track, dealt treacherously with the natives, and re- 
ceived treachery in return. !N^arvaez next hunted 
over the same wilderness, for golden cities like those 
of the South. He struggled vainly through wild mo- 
rasses, left more than half his companions dead upon 
the route, and, after a long, painful and bewildered 
wandering, succeeded in regaining the sea-shore, only 
to be swept away to an ocean grave. The few who 
finally returned to Spain, persisted in declaring, like 
all who had preceded them, that "Florida is the 
richest country in the world." 

Enticed by these repeated accounts of its exhaust- 
less wealth, the brilliant De Soto equipped an army, 
which exceeded the forces that had ravaged Peru, 
and, with it, penetrated the tangled forests that 
stretched from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. Like 
those who had gone before, the well-armed host dwin- 
dled away to a feeble, insignificant number, and their 
commander received a secret burial in the waters of 
the " Great Kiver." 

As the discoverer of the Mississippi, and as the as- 
sociate conqueror of Peru, De Soto stands prominent 
among the pioneers of America. He possessed the 



FEEDESTAND DE SOTO. 105 

lieroic qualities of Pizarro and Cortez, without their 
atrocious cruelty, and as much of true greatness as 
can be found among the illustrious of that age, a very 
few excepted. 

There is nothing to record of the youth of De Soto. 
He was of respectable, but undistinguished parentage, 
and a native of Xerez, in the southern portion of the 
province of Estremadura — a province more remark- 
able for its rugged aspect than anything else. Born 
and reared where mountains bounded the horizon, 
where roads led among steep, j utting rocks, and where 
every ramble led him through wild passes or along 
the banks of swift rivers, it is not surprising that the 
national characteristic of indolence should, in him, 
have given way to an unusual degree of energy and 
boldness. 

The tales, too, of the splendid exploits of his pro- 
vincial countrymen among the mountains of Anda- 
lusia, must have had an influence upon the ambitious 
and spirited youth. The Estremadurans are a grave, 
taciturn people, inoffensive in peace, but indefatiga- 
ble in war. They had formed the most reliable de- 
tachments in Eerdinand's army, and were deservedly 
renowned for their skillful horsemanship. The fame 
of their achievements was increased rather than di- 
minished by repetition, and when De Soto listened, 
he longed to imitate his favorite heroes and attain a 
like celebrity. 

Mingled with these fascinating tales of the past, 
were exciting rumors of discovery and adventure in 
E* 



100 DISCOVERERS AND PI0]S:EERS OF AMERICA. 

lauds which gave more brilliant promise, than the re- 
gions portrayed in Oriental legends. The enthusiasm 
to embark in the novel enterprises, spread from palace 
to cottage, from valley hamlet to the most remote 
mountain village. Even the grave Estremadurans 
caught at the enticing hopes, and sallied forth from 
their isolated homes, to swell the irrepressible tide 
that was rolling towards the distant shores of the new 
continent. 

In these hazardous expeditions, De Soto beheld the 
opportunity to distinguish himself, for which he had 
longed. He had no fortune, no blazoned title, no im- 
posing equipments to secure him a prominent position 
among the forces that crowded every westward-bound 
caravel. Contented with only his sword and buckler, 
which he knew well how to wield, confident in his 
long-practiced martial exercises, courageous, perseve- 
ring and prudent, he embarked for the Indies in 
search of long-coveted honor and wealth. 

Peter Arias, a Castilian earl, was then Governor 
of the Indies. His notice was soon attracted to the 
valorous De Soto, and perceiving his excellent horse- 
manship, and capability to command, appointed him 
captain of a troop of horsemen, and sent him to join 
Pizarro, who was pressing his victorious march to 
the very heart of Peru. He was there received with 
equal readiness into the favor of the conqueror. 

It was he who was selected to bear the perilous 
embassy from Pizarro to the Peruvian Inca, in the 
midst of his camp. With a few well-mounted follow- 



FEEDrCfAND DE SOTO. 107 

ers, he dashed over the plain, and would fearlessly 
have entered the Indian camp, that covered an im- 
mense area with its white tents, and teemed with 
athletic and cunning warriors, who might at any mo- 
ment prove perfidious. Pizarro regretted the rash- 
ness, and sent his brother Hernando with a small de- 
tachment of cavalry, to join De Soto. They together 
approached the royal pavilion, where Atahualpa was 
surrounded by royal attendants, attired in the rude 
splendor of barbaric sovereignty. 

The stoical monarch received the Spaniards with- 
out a change of feature, though he and his people be- 
held, for the first time, the strange and evidently su- 
perior comers from an unknown world. Without dis- 
mounting, Hernando saluted the Inca, informed him 
of the pacific intentions of the Spaniards, and invited 
him to sup with Pizarro the following day. The 
grave, dignified prince maintained a marble com- 
posure, scarcely deigned a glance at the showily 
costumed visitors, and sat in profound silence. " It 
is well," at last said an Indian noble who stood at his 
side. Hernando respectfully demanded a reply from 
the prince himself, which he presently received in a 
tone that assured him of the conscious power and su- 
premacy of the laconic sovereign. 

De Soto was near, mounted on a fiery war-horse, 
which impatiently pawed the ground and champed 
the bits. He easily governed its movements, while he 
watched the Inca with intense interest and admira- 
tion. He was unprepared for such an exhibition of 



103 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF A3IERICA. 

courtier-like indifference, and stately, proud compo- 
sure, among a race which had elsewhere bowed be- 
fore them in awe, and acknowledged weakness. A 
single glance from Atahualpaat his splendid charger, 
was enough to suggest to De Soto a display of his 
masterly skill. Giving free rein, he dashed furiously 
across the plain, wheeled about, exhibiting the grace- 
ful evolutions of his steed, and returned to the^'pres- 
ence of the unmoved Inca in long leaps, that made 
the Indian soldiers shrink back as he dashed past 
them. Atahualpa still maintained his gravity and 
bis silence, but thenceforward, he and De Soto held 
each other in mutual admiration. 

A few days after, the haughty, but strangely unsus- 
pecting monarch was a caj)tive in his own city. He 
soon perceived the avaricious spirit of the Spaniards, 
and availed himself of it to attempt his ransom. He 
offered to cover the floor of his prison chamber with 
plates of gold. Pizarro, and those who stood with 
him, looked incredulous. The royal captive rose, his 
Indian stoicism overcome by the strong hope of lib- 
erty. His handsome countenance gleamed with ea- 
gerness, and his eyes looked out fiercely from the 
crimson and gold fringe of the imperial lorla, that 
still encircled his temples. He slowly extended his 
arms from beneath his mantle of soft wool, and, draw- 
ing himself up to his greatest height, told them he 
would thus fill the room with gold. J^^ay, the adjoin- 
ing apartment should be twice filled with silver, also. 
It was too much for the gold-seekers to withstand. 




PIZZAKO AND ATAUUALPA. 



Paae 10?. 



FEKDINiLND DE SOTO. 109 

The danger they would incur in restoring his freedom, 
and permitting him to reorganize his armies, was 
nothing to the coveted prize. The treacherous Pi- 
zarro secretly promised himself to secure both the 
gold and the life of the Inca, and, accordingly, he 
drew a red mark across the wall, which indicated the 
limits of the golden pile, and was also a seal of the 
compact. 

The two months allowed for its fulfillment passed, 
and, though the Peruvians had laid a magnificent 
ransom at the feet of the conquerors, Pizarro still 
refused the Inca's liberty. Atahualpa expostulated 
with his captors, and, from the first, attracted to De 
Soto, besought his interference. The injustice and 
perfidy of the detention was evident enough to the 
friendly cavalier, who immediately laid the demands 
of the captive monarch before his commander. He 
was unheeded. 

A rumor was soon after afloat among the soldiery, 
that the natives meditated an attack, and that Ata- 
hualpa was the secret instigator of the movement. 
It was said that an immense army was already on the 
march. Atahualpa asserted his innocence, and the 
falsity of the rumor. Willing to catch at a plausible 
pretext for his death, Pizarro revolved a plan in his 
own mind which he immediately put into execution. 

De Soto was selected to head a detachment to re- 
connoitre the country, and ascertain the truth of the 
exciting reports. His fearlessness in danger, and the 
courage and devotion which he never failed to inspire 



110 DISCO VEKEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

in those who followed him, influenced his appoint' 
ment. He was willing to find proof of the fallen 
monarch's innocence, and Pizarro was eqnallj wil- 
ling to rid himself of the presence of Atahualpa's 
warmest champion, till the meditated execution was 
over. De Soto had scarcely gone, when a trial was 
instituted against the Inca. The few voices raised in 
his defense availed him nothing. Though no proofs 
of his guilt could be found, though he and his people 
had ofl'ered the intruders nothing but kindness, though 
they had freely yielded up their treasures, it was de- 
cided by the valued opinion of Father Valverde, the 
principal priest, that, " at all events the Inca deserved 
death ! " 

The tears, the pleadings, and the reproaches of 
Atahualpa were disregarded. "When, at last, he per- 
ceived that he had no power to deter his unprincipled 
and ungrateful conquerors from their design, he bowed 
himself in silence, and yielded to his ignominious 
fate with the sullen courage of an Indian chieftain. 

De Soto returned with ample evidence of Atahu- 
alpa's truth, two or three days after the execution of 
that liberal and confiding prince. He came to an- 
nounce, exultingly, the innocence of the man whose 
good faith he had guarantied, but he was met with 
the tidings of his unhappy fate. Too indignant to 
regard the superior |)osition of his commander, he 
hastened to his presence, and boldly denounced his 
dishonorable measures. Pizarro, with a mock so- 
lemnity that could not deceive the most credulous, 



FEEDmAJSTD DE SOTO. ' 111 

exhi bited in his dress and deportment, all the signs of 
sorrow, wearing " a great felt hat, by way of mourn- 
ing, slouched over his eyes." 

" You have acted raslily," said De Soto, angrily 
and bluntly ; " Atahualpa has been basely slandered. 
There was no enemy at Guamachucho; no rising 
among the natives. I have met with nothing on the 
road but demonstrations of good-will, and all is quiet. 
If it was necessary to bring the Inca to trial,he should 
have been taken to Castile and judged by the Empe- 
ror. I would have pledged myself to have seen him 
safe on board the vessel." The guilty Pizarro con- 
fessed his rashness, but it was too late to recall the 
deed, and there were few to lament it, since it secured 
the subjugation of Peru, and left her cities open to 
their ravages. 

The imperial city of Cusco was rifled of its treas- 
ures. Sheets of gold were torn from the walls of the 
temples ; idols, and ornaments of exquisite workman- 
ship were appropriated in the name of their sover- 
eign, together with golden vases embossed with fig- 
ures and flowers, goblets wreathed with graceful 
vines and delicately wrought imitations of plants, 
among which was the Indian corn. Its golden ear 
was sheathed in long, silver leaves, and tassels of the 
same metal hung from their close enfoldings. The 
most elaborate specimens were selected for the Em- 
peror's fifth, and the rest reduced to ingots of a uni- 
form value, by the Indian goldsmiths, in order to 
make an equal division of the spoil. When Pizarro 



112 DISCOVERERS AND I'lONEERS OF AMERICA. 

bestowed upon each of his followers their share, he 
" invoked the assistance of Heaven to do the work 
before him conscientiously and justly ; " a manifesta- 
tion of piety, of equal genuineness with that which 
prompted him to join Father Yalverde, in muttering 
credos for the departing soul of Atahualpa. 

When De Soto was ready to return to Spain, ho 
was in possession of " a hundred and four score thou- 
sand ducats," and the reputation of having surpassed 
" all other captains and principal persons " in Pizar- 
ro's army. He withdrew from Peru, when his sagac- 
ity foresaw the result of the bickerings and jealousy 
daily increasing among the troops. The fame for 
which he had encountered danger, was his ; and the 
riches that had decoyed him from home, were now in 
his grasp. He stood upon a height from which he 
could look down upon the world, and could extend 
the hand of fellowship to those of noble birth, the 
hem of whose garment he could scarcely have touched, 
when he left Spain, a poor adventurer. 

The wealth, prudently economized during his Pe- 
ruvian campaign, he freely lavished when he re- 
touched the shores of his native land. As if to re- 
venge himself upon his early poverty, he provided 
for his use a retinue as imposing and expensive, as the 
most arrogant noble could boast ; attended court, re- 
ceived a flattering welcome from the Emperor, and 
occupied a position as prominent and commanding 
as the wildest dreams of his ambitious boyhood could 
have suggested. 



FEEDINAXD DK SOTO. 113 

Strong in his success, he boldly claimed the hand 
of Donna Isabella de Bobadilla, the daughter of the 
Earl whom he had served in the Indies. He was no 
longer an humble suitor, but proudly felt that he be- 
stowed as much honor as he received, in accepting 
the bride, whose high birth he had striven to balance 
by the renown and gold he threw into the scale. 

He reached the goal of his youthful imaginings — 
fame, wealth and love ; but, so far from finding con- 
tentment and repose, his restless spirit chafed to wing 
its flight beyond the exalted heights reached by the 
heroes of his time, l^othing would satisfy him but 
to conquer a province, and reveal to the world cities 
in the heart of a wilderness, boasting as mysterious a 
civilization as those to which Cortez and Pizarro had 
cut their way. All Europe believed that wealthy na- 
tions peopled the northern continent, beyond the 
wilds of the Atlantic coast, and the brilliant, but 
strangely exaggerated accounts retm'ned by every ex- 
.pedition, confirmed the surmise. 

Inflamed by the reports concerning Florida, De 
Soto applied to the Emperor for its government, and 
pledged himself to conquer it at his own cost. Charles 
Y. was not chary of his gifts, and, willing to reward 
De Soto generously, invested him with the titles of 
Governor of Cuba, and Marquis Adelantado, or Pres- 
ident of Florida, which name was applied, to an im- 
mense and undefined extent of territory. 

The news that one of the famed conquerors of Peru ' 
was about to undertake an independent expedition, 

8 



ll4 DISCOVEEEES ANT) PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

produced an excitement that extended even to Por- 
tugal. Men of high titles and large possessions, en- 
gaged in the enterprise, and those who could not 
otherwise raise the necessary funds, sold their houses, 
vineyards, olive plantations, and towns of vassals, and 
repaired to Seville, in readiness to accompany the 
Adelantado. A company of Portuguese, from San 
Lucar, visited De Soto, to offer the services of some 
of their countrymen. They found him at Seville^ 
where he received them in the spacious court of his 
residence, conducting them to the galleries above it, 
and entertained them at his sumptuous board, with 
" show of great contentment." 

De Soto demanded an assemblage of all who de- 
sired to accompany him, to be made at San Lucar, a 
town near the mouth of the Guadalquiver, and just 
upon the confines of Portugal and the kingdom of 
Seville. A general muster was ordered, upon which 
" the Portuguese showed themselves armed in very 
bright armor, and the Castilians very gallant with 
silk upon silk, with many pinkings and cuts," as is 
related by the chronicler. The gay accoutrements, 
that might have made a European army dazzling, 
were little fitted for the rude campaigns of the unciv- 
ilized continent. The experienced captain assured 
them that " braveries in such an action did not like 
him," and dismissed them to prepare for hardy ser- 
vice. 

A.t length, six hundred picked men were equipped 
iu burnished mail, well armed, and finely mounted. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 115 

Scores were refused, althougli they had disposed of 
their estates, to defray expenses ; the number already 
exceeded the provisions made for the expedition. 
Donna Isabella accompanied De Soto, and several of 
the wives of noblemen on board, also consented to 
embark. 

Early in 1538, the fleet set sail, with as gay and 
hopeful a crowd of adventurers as ever committed 
themselves to the winds. Banners floated, armor 
flashed, trumpets sounded, and heavy ordnance was 
discharged, to give vent to their exuberant spirits. 
After the usual experience of storms and calms, the 
fleet touched at the Canaries, where the voyagers 
were honorably received by an earl of one of the 
islands, "appareled all in white, cloak, jerkin, hose, 
shoes, and cap, so that he seemed a lord of the Gip- 
sies." The ships were here freshly provisioned, and, 
after a week of rest, De Soto steered for his new 
provinces. 

Their arrival at Cuba was the signal for a succes- 
sion of festivals, and brilliant entertainments. De 
Soto immediately despatched two ships to seek a safe 
harbor on the Florida coast. Upon their return, with 
two Indian captives, who communicated by signs, 
that their country contained mines of the precious 
metal, the troops became impatient to set out for the 
new land. The infection spread to such a degree 
among the Cubans, that, with others, Yasco Porcallo, 
an old man, lavished all his wealth upon magnificent 
preparations to accompany De Soto. Grey-haired 



IIG DISCO YEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AilEEICA. 

veterans were as readily infatuated as headlong 
youths. 

De Soto bade adieu to his beautiful young wife, 
whom he was destined never again to behold, left her 
in command of the island, and sailed for Florida, the 
eighteenth of May, 1539, with a fleet of eighteen 
ships. A few days brought them to the Bay of Spir- 
itu Santo, where they eagerly disembarked. They 
beheld, with some misgiving, the low, marshy shores, 
the occasional savannas of tall, strong grass, and the 
dreary pine barrens, with their thriving undergrowth 
of palmettos. The dismal aspect was relieved by 
the gorgeously colored flowers, that made the air 
heavy with rich perfume, and was enlivened by the 
songs and the flitting, to and fro, of the blue jay, the 
flaming oriole, the cheerful red-breast, and the melo- 
dious warblings of the mocking bird. 

Anticipating a rich soil, and an inhabited interior, 
of unequaled magnificence, from the showy luxuri- 
ance of what they saw, and unwilling to note the un- 
promising hammucks that characterized the country, 
they formed a gay cavalcade, and commenced the 
toilsome wandering in a wilderness, from which they 
never could escape. The ships were returned to Ha- 
vana, that none might be induced to turn back — a 
measure which so alarmed the aged Porcallo, that he 
refused to enter the suspicious wilds, and returned 
with the fleet to Cuba. 

The exploring army was composed of a large body 
of cavalry and foot-soldiers, twelve priests, who scru- 



FEKDINAND DE SOTO. IIT 

puloiislj imposed every religious observance, and two 
or three Indian guides. Among the latter was an in- 
terpreter, named John Ortiz. He was a native of 
Spain, and had been taken captive by the Indians, 
while traversing Florida with ISTarvaez. Ucita, the 
warrior in whose hands he had fallen, condemned 
him to be burned, with all the lingering horrors in- 
flicted by Indian cruelty; but the daughter of the 
chieftain — - another Pocahontas — plead for his life, 
and for her sake ho was unbound, and adopted in the 
tribe. A short time before the landing of De Soto, 
he had fallen under the displeasure of Ucita, and was 
again condemned to die. The brave Indian girl, who 
had before saved his life, secretly informed him of 
his danger, told him of a neighboring sachem who 
would protect him, conducted him half a league on 
his way at night, and hastily returned, lest her ab- 
sence and' her errand should be discovered. He 
found his way to the Spanish army just as the}'- had 
commenced their march, and gladly mingled with his 
countrymen, after a captivity of twelve years. He 
was most serviceable to them as an interpreter. 

It is no tribute to the humanity of De Soto, to re- 
cord that his army was not only equipped with neces- 
sary weapons of oifence and defence, but that it was 
provided with manacles and chains for captives, and 
the instruments of a forge, together with ferocious 
blood-hounds, as aid against the oj^posing natives. 
It was thus that civilized races wrenched from the 
feeble grasp of the Indians their rightful possessions ; 



118 DISCO VEKE us AXi) PIONl:;Er.S OF AMERICA. 

loaded them with chains in return for their unsus- 
pecting hospitaHty ; forced upon them a religion im- 
possible to understand, when exemphfied by outra- 
geous cruelty ; overlooked their manhood, and crushed 
them to the earth, wretched, helpless slaves. It is a 
truth worth remembrance, that those portions of 
America where civilization was ushered in by rapa- 
city and oppression, are still overclouded by the same 
baneful influences, while those which were enlightened 
in a spirit of peace and good-will, are the most flour- 
ishing States on the continent. 

De Soto's severity is only lessened in reproach, by 
comparison with all who preceded him, and the usages 
of the age, which, in war, spared neither old nor 
young, and, in the most refined cities of the Old 
World, licensed a general butchery, where there was 
not a gentle resignation to the Catholic yoke. The 
Spaniards assumed that the Indians were an un- 
appeasable, ferocious race, to be tamed only by 
the harshest measures, and, accordingly, always ap- 
proached them with a dictatory mien, and bristling 
with weapons — the surest mode of arousing their 
manly independence, and fierce opposition. 

Such a spirit pervaded the followers of De Soto, as 
they struggled through the deceitful hammucks of 
the south, in search of uncertain cities, which their 
guides at one moment assured them lay towards the 
north, and, at the next, were equally certain they 
would find in the west. The horses, though well- 
trained, continually sank deep into the marshes con- 



FEEDINAiSrD DE SOTO. 119 

cealed beneath the luxuriant growth of vines, which 
were matted with close-set shrubs. The foot-soldiers, 
weighed down by their heavy armor, struggled with 
difficulty through the quagmires, beneath a burning 
sun ; and if they sought shelter from the heat in the 
forests of gigantic oak, cotton-wood, and flowering 
magnolias, which intervened, they were soon lost in 
the dark, sombre mazes of these coverts of unfriendly 
Indians, or caught in the thorny bushes and clinging 
ivy that ensnared their steps. 

De Soto, with thirty horsemen and fifty footmen, 
went in advance of the army, intent upon finding a 
province called Cale, where, a cacique had told him, 
the warriors wore head-pieces of gold when they went 
to battle. After several days of wandering, he ar- 
rived at Cale, but found only a deserted town and three 
Indian spies, whom he took prisoners. He here 
awaited the coming of those he had left behind. 
They made their way but slowly, being exhausted 
with hunger and fatigue. Provisions had given out, 
and they were obliged to depend upon the resources 
of the insignificant villages, through which they fre- 
quently passed. Joining De Soto at Cale, they swept 
all the fields of maize within reach, and were obliged 
to beat the grain in a mortar, and sift the flour 
through their coats of mail, in order to prepare it for 
bread. 

The march was resumed. Every settlement in 
their progress was robbed of food, and such natives 
as could be seized were enslaved. Frequently, skirm- 



120 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

ishes occurred, in which the Indians, when defeated, 
sought to save themselves by plunging into the wil- 
derness, or hiding under the leaves of the water- 
lilies, on the borders of deep lakes, which abound in 
Florida. 

The soldiers became wearied and impatient with 
their unfruitful toil, and saw no fulfillment of the 
promises of the youth, named Patofa, who had offered 
to guide them to a rich province. The young Indian, 
like an evil spirit, led them by a path that narrowed 
each day, and finally was lost. Yet they followed 
him through a " fat country, beautiful and very fruit- 
ful," waded rapid streams, again entered intricate for- 
ests, and finally, after fording a deep and wide river, 
and halting in a grove of pine trees in the midst of a 
dreary waste of low thicket, De Soto's patience was 
exhausted, and he threatened the youth with death 
if he longer led them astray. Patofa declared him- 
self bewildered. 

Their store of maize had given out ; the men were 
staggering with weakness ; the country through 
which they had passed could not afford subsistence 
on their return ; before them stretched an almost im- 
penetrable forest ; and to remain where they were, 
exposed them to the revenge of the wronged Indians, 
A consultation was held, in which De Soto decided to 
send scouts in every direction, to seek some inhabited 
place. Several days of intense suspense and suffering 
ensued. One after another of the exploring parties re- 
turned on foot, driving their horses before them with 



FEEDINAJStD DE SOTO. ll>l 

Sticks, " for they were so weary that they could not 
lead them." Some had been left in the thickets and 
marshes, unable to proceed farther. De Soto was in- 
dignant that any should have been deserted in their 
extremity, and sent horsemen in search of them, who 
found and brought them to the camp. 

At length, one of the parties returned, with the re- 
viving news of a small town, a few leagues distant. 
Inspired with fresh vigor and hope, the rapidly di- 
minishing army set out for the village, leaving a let- 
ter buried at the foot of a tree, with directions to find 
it, carved upon the trunk, for the benefit of those com- 
panions who had not returned. A supply of ground 
maize was found in the town, and distributed among 
the soldiers, many of whom still lingered on tbe road, 
unable to drag themselves any farther. 

"When strength and energy were partially restored 
to the army, they proceeded on their march to a prov- 
ince governed by a woman. She heard of their in- 
tended visit, and went to meet them in a barge, 
where she sat beneath a rude canopy, accompanied 
by her attendants. She greeted the Adelantado in a 
friendly and generous speech, and presented him with 
gifts of fine skins and mantles, composed of brilliant 
plumage, besides a cordon of pearls, which she cast 
upon his neck. She then conducted him and his fol- 
lowers into her own province. 

Smooth, fertile meadows stretched along the river- 
side ; fields of maize lay full and ripe, and groves of 
mulberry and hickory oflPered a refreshing shade. 
F 



122 DISCOYERERS AJSTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

The inhabitants were courteous, attractive, and, unlike 
most of their countrymen, were clothed in skins and 
mantles, both showy and graceful. Pearls seemed 
plentiful, though greatly injured by perforation and 
burning. The Spaniards were delighted with the as- 
pect and promise of this jDrovince, and, with one 
voice, urged De Soto to take possession of, and colonize 
it, as it was but two days' travel to the sea-shore, and 
afibrded abundant resources of wealth. To this, the 
proud, ambitious commander would not listen. He 
had fully determined to outvie Pizarro, in the discov- 
ery of a wealthy nation, and nothing could deter him. 
His resolution once formed, he was stern and inflexible ; 
kno%ving this, his followers, yielding without dispute, 
left behind the tempting dominions of the Indian 
queen, and again plunged into the dark, miry depths 
of the forest. 

The province of a powerful, sullen cacique, who 
governed a warlike people, and whose towns were 
enclosed by walls of wood and clay, came next in 
their way. De Soto had, from his entrance into 
Florida, insisted that each cacique should accompany 
him to the uttermost bounds of his province, both to 
prevent the forming of any evil designs against his 
army, and to enforce the services of their subjects in 
providing food and carrying burdens. He always 
dismissed his unwilling escort with courteous thanks. 
His compulsory demand did not suit the dignity of 
the warrior, before whose towns the Spaniards now 
encamped. The chief had accompanied them a short 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. , 123 

distance, but refused to go farther, and, in tlie midst of 
his armed people, looked with disdain upon De Soto, 
and maintained a scornful silence to all his require- 
ments. A misunderstanding ensued; both parties 
were suspicious, and the anger of both was vented in 
a sudden battle — the first that had occurred since 
their landing. The town was fired, the clothes and 
pearls, borne by the slaves, were destroyed ; hun- 
dreds of the natives were slain, many of the Spaniards 
wounded, and eighteen of them killed. This loss was 
great to De Soto, as eighty-six of his men had already 
fallen by the way, either from sickness, hunger, or 
the effects of poisoned arrows. 

The second winter of their wanderings in Florida 
was fast approaching, and, though nothing but fa- 
tigue and suffering had yet been experienced, De 
Soto pushed onward, undaunted by difficulties. A 
second encounter with the natives was an additional 
disaster. While slumbering in security, in an appa- 
rently deserted town, the houses were fired, and the 
bewildered soldiers rushed from the flames, unarmed, 
among the savages, who sprung up in every direction. 
Frightened at their own work, the natives fled, leav- 
ing eight Spaniards dead. Many of the horses were 
consumed, together with the sldiers' clothing. They 
were reduced to the necessity of weaving mats of ivy, 
for a covering from the severe cold of winter, and of 
manufacturing saddles of cane, and lances from ash- 
wood, to replace their loss. 

De Soto still refused to retrace his steps, though ho 



124 DISC0VEKEK8 AifD PIONEERS OF ASIEKICA. 

had received tidings of a ship that awaited him in 
port, but six miles distant. He concealed the fact 
from his men, and would return no account of him- 
self, as his extravagant hopes were yet far from being 
realized, and the little store of wealth he had accu- 
mulated was destroyed. Too proud to acknowledge 
his misfortunes, he preserved silence, and still cut 
his way through the dismal hammucks, through the 
snow, and over the inundated lowlands, towards 
the Mississippi. He arrived upon the banks of 
that giant river, early in the spring of 1541. In 
beholding its richly-wooded banks, the trees along 
the shore draped with the vine which so gracefully 
festoons the southern forests — the soft, mossy " cur- 
tain of death," — while gazing far down its stately 
moving waters, and above, where its immense vol- 
umes majestically curved from the concealment of 
rock and forest, and across its wide, deep channel to 
the opposite, dimly-lined shores, he believed, more 
firmly than ever, that the provinces it skirted were 
the splendid dominions he sought, and chat those he 
had traversed, were but the outskirts of the fancied 
semi-barbarous nation. 

Acting upon this belief, he encamped his dimin- 
ished army near its banks. The soldiers were imme- 
diately busied in hewing timber, to construct barges, 
in which to cross the interposing river. The ringing 
sound of their labor echoed strangely along the shore, 
and the wondering natives shot out here and there, 
in their canoes, to behold the skill,, and cunning de- 



FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 125 

vices, by which the new comers so quickly construct- 
ed huge boats from the fallen trees. Their coming 
had been heralded beyond the Mississippi, long be- 
fore they had reached its banks, by the stealthy, swift 
Indian runner, who, like the Scottish henchman sent 
with the fearful sign of the crosslet, to summon Yich- 
Alpine's clan, was bid to 

"Bend 'gainst the steepy hill his breast, 
Burst dcwn like torrent from its crest; 
With short and springing footstep pass 
The trembling bog and false morass ; 
Across the brook like roebuck bound, 
And thread the brake like questing hound." 

The chieftains caught the quick words of the "her- 
ald of battle, fate and fear," and with grave, unmoved 
features, made known to the gloomy warriors, the near 
approach of the scourge that had been prophesied by 
their forefathers. 

De Soto had scarcely encamped upon the river 
banks, when his vigilant eye caught sight of a distant 
fleet of canoes, moving swiftly down the great stream. 
As they approached nearer, they seemed a " fair army 
of gallies." The two hundred canoes were long, well 
made, and filled from head to stern with standing 
warriors, wearing white or richly colored plumes, 
armed with bows and arrows, and bearing shields to 
defend the rowei's, whose noiseless, time-keeping oars 
conveyed them in long leaps over the downward 
flowing water. As they neared the Spanish encamp- 
ment, the flags, plumes, shields, and canopies with 



126 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

which the canoes were decorated, became more dis- 
tinct. The principal cacique sat in the stern of the 
longest barge, beneath a canopy, whence he com- 
manded and directed his people, with a dignity and 
stateliness that outdid the Estremaduran general, to 
whom he came to pay homage. 

The canoes approached the shore, " to see if, with 
dissimulation, 'they might do some hurt," according 
to the Portuguese account, but, perceiving the Span- 
iards well armed, put off in great haste, after sending 
three canoes ashore, loaded with mantles and provis- 
ions. The Spaniards, interpreting hostility from their 
warlike array, shot after them, as their canoes receded 
in perfect order. Six of the rowers were killed, but, 
with a discipline that would have done credit to a 
civilized soldiery, their places were instantly jSlled. 
They returned up the river as noiselessly as they 
came. The camp remained unmolested during the 
succeeding thirty days, which were occupied in 
building boats. 

The river was crossed without difficulty or opposi- 
tion, and the explorers were greatly relieved to find 
themselves traversing a more open and a drier country 
than that which had hitherto impeded their progress. 
The sight of smooth fields, thin woods, groves of mul- 
berry and wild plum ; trees bearing grateful fruit, 
and frequent Indian towns containing a peaceful pop- 
ulation, invigorated the wearied and despairing troops. 
The accounts of a powerful cacique, at no great dis- 
tance, lured them on. When arrived at the prov- 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 127 

ince of Casqui, that cacique met De Soto with gifts, 
and offered the town for the nse of the soldiers. 
Many exchanges of courtesy, and bombastic words of 
friendship followed. 

De Soto remained in adjoining groves with his fol- 
lowers. Casqui returned to the town, and soon ap- 
peared again, with many of his people, among whom 
were two blind men. The latter approached De Soto, 
prostrated themselves before him, and besought him, 
as the " Son of the Sun," to restore light to their 
sightless eyes. Touched by their confiding simplici- 
ty, and reminded, by the incident, of the mission of 
Christ, whose atonement he had failed to make 
known along the way, except in a warlike spirit, he 
assured the supplicants that God alone could restore 
them, and they "should ask whatsoever they stood in 
need of, of the Lord which was in heaven." He 
showed them the cross, told them of the Saviour, and 
finished by commanding a large cross to be made, 
and erected on the highest eminence in the town, 
" in commemoration of Christ's sufferings." The Ad- 
elantado, his troops, and the awed Indians, knelt be- 
fore it and worshiped ; as long as it remained, the be- 
nighted race prostrated themselves before it, and 
prayed to it as to an idol. Thus, though unwittingly, 
the Spaniards conducted them to a surer idolatry than 
that which they already possessed, by offering them 
symbolic, instead of purely spiritual religion. 

The cacique of the adjoining province, being at en- 
mity with Casqui, and hearing of his formidable al- 



128 DISC0VEREE8 AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

lies, retired witli his warriors to an island, lying at 
the juncture of two streams. When De Soto arrived 
at the deserted towns, he found them walled ; the 
principal one being flanked with rude towers, and 
nearly surrounded by a lake and ditch. An abun- 
dance of skins and mantles were appropriated by the 
destitute troops, and converted into cassocks, gowns, 
jerkins, hose and shoes. Thus appareled in the robes 
of the Indian hunters, without the apology of their 
being the spoils of war, they pursued the owners, and, 
with the assistance of Casqui, drove them from the 
wooded island, and took many of them prisoners. 

Casqui, however, took possession of their goods, 
and, lest he should not be permitted to retain them, 
hurried off, without a word of adieu to De Soto. At 
this, De Soto united with the cacique of Pacaha, and 
began a march into Casqui's province, upon which 
the run-away warrior made the most humble apolo- 
gies, and placed all his possessions at the Spaniards' 
disposal. Thus, having conquered both the caciques, 
who had long been sworn foes, he provided as sump- 
tuous a dinner as he could afford, invited the chieftains, 
and made them ft*iends. But the smoke of their pipe 
of peace had scarcely curled away, before the jealous 
caciques " fell at variance about the seats, which of 
them should sit on the right hand of the conqueror." 
Again De Soto interposed, and restored good feeling, 
by assuring them that he considered either seat equal- 
ly honorable. The feast was partaken with the ut- 
most good will, on all sides, and, thenceforth, the two 



FEKDINASD DE SOTO. 129 

caciques vied with each other in gifts and kind ser- 
vices to De Soto. 

Tlie Spaniards continued their march to the north, 
after crossing the Mississippi, till the increasing cold, 
and the reports of a destitute country beyond, deci- 
ded De Soto to turn to the south. His proud deter- 
mination began to fail him, as dream after dream van- 
ished before the stern realities with which his faithful 
followers fought at every step. No gold, no silver, 
no more pearls or precious stones rewarded their 
search. They were fortunate when they found food 
enough to satisfy the cravings of hunger. De Soto 
looked with pain upon his few remaining followers. 
They who, in brilliant armor, with waving pennons 
and plumes, and prancing steeds, had boldly dashed 
into the tangled hammucks of Florida, were now 
traversing the swamps, and pools, and snow, clad in 
shaggy bear-skins, rough ox-hides, and mantles of 
softer fur and feathers, bearing ashen lances of their 
own make, a few steel weapons, and remnants of rus- 
ty coats of mail. They looked like a troop of wild 
Laplanders, thus wrapped in shaggy caps, mantles, 
and shoes, and often driving before them, with sticks, 
the jaded, moping horses, in whose sides every rib 
could be counted. 

With but half of his original army left, De Soto 
knew that it was useless to contend with the savages. 
There was no more promise of discovering, here, a 
second Cusco, or another Atahualpa; and no enti- 
cing accounts of distant riches, to nerve his devoted 
F* 9 



130 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

band to meet new dangers. Yet, unwilling to yield, 
at once, his splendid schemes, and clinging to them 
with the tenacity of a hopeful and energetic spirit, he 
consoled himself with the j)lan of returning to Cuba, 
for a fresh supply of troops, and then pursuing his 
search, farther west and south. He encouraged his 
men, and concealed his own misgivings and disap- 
pointment, by continually dwelling upon this new 
project, and, with that in view, turned to seek the 
sea shore. 

First, they clambered over rough mountains, then 
descended to a smooth, champaign district, where 
they were detained for months, by the snow. The 
winter passed away, in these struggles to gain the sea- 
coast. Early in March, 1542, they again pressed for- 
ward, and, after an exhausting journey through alow 
country, rendered almost impassable by frequent 
bayous, lakes, cane-brakes, and forests, they succeed- 
ed in reaching the Mississippi. Encamped once more 
upon its banks, their courage revived, though each 
day, some one of their number became victims to 
starvation or hardship. Their unmarked graves lay 
all along the route, and many of those who again be- 
held the ocean-ward waters, were destined to receive 
a secret burial in some hidden nook of the forest bor- 
dering the river. 

The first cacique who visited the camp, was eagerly 
questioned concerning the distance of the sea, and 
the nature of the intervening country. De Soto lis- 
tened, with oppressive forebodings, to his account of 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 131 

the iminliabited and dreary waste, that characterized 
the lower banks of the river. He would not believe 
the disheartening relation, and dispatched a small 
party to ascertain the truth of it. At the end of 
eight days, the men returned in despair ; they had 
penetrated but a few leagues, owing to the numberless 
creeks, canc-groves, and thick woods that opposed 
their progress. Not a human being, or the sign of a 
habitation, had been seen by tlie way. How were 
they to force their way to the sea, over many hundred 
leagues of marshes, and swamps, without the means 
of sustenance ? De Soto received the intelligence in 
silence. His men gathered about him, thoughtful 
and gloomy, and unable to cheer their commander. 
His unflagging energy, and obstinate perseverance, 
had imparted courage and strength to them till now. 
That his strong spirit should bend under their misfor- 
tunes, was utterly depressing; they looked in each 
other's famished faces with questioning glances, but 
no one could suggest a mode of escape from the fate 
that threatened them. 

Roused by the sufferings of his faithful followers, 
De Soto made another effort to obtain relief. He had 
been told of a cacique across the river, who ruled the 
province of Quigalta, and was said to be the "great- 
est lord in that country." He immediately sent an 
Indian, to inform him of the arrival of the " Son of the 
Sun," whom all the caciques of his nation obcA^ed ; so- 
licited his friendship, and desired him to come to him 
with tokens of obedience and love. When the mes- 



132 DISOOVEEERS AI^D PIONEEUS OF AMERICA. 

senger had gone, De Soto threw himself upon his low, 
hard bed, sick from disappointed hopes and perplex- 
ity. He knew not how to extricate himself from the 
snare into which ambition had led him, and if he did 
escape, his pride shrank from appearing before the 
world, a foiled adventurer. He had for a while sus- 
tained himself and his troops, with the empty pro- 
ject of fitting out a new expedition, but his means 
were not adequate, and if thej were, what was there 
in the wilderness of Florida to tempt him ? His ti- 
tles, too, what were they ? When he received them 
at the hand of an Emperor, and all the world be- 
lieved they gifted him with power and riches, he glo- 
ried in them. But, what was it to be the marquis of 
marshes, and impenetrable thickets ? — ^to be governor 
of a wild, untamed host, who would pay no tribute 
but coarse food, and shaggy robes ? The name of 
Adelantado of Florida, sounded far diflevently in his 
ears, when he had traversed his possessions, than 
when he stood, an admired hero, in the presence of 
royalty. He had not courage to face the world, in 
his reverses, nor to return to his high-born wife, who 
awaited him at Cuba, in painful suspense. Could he 
have known, with what faithfulness and solicitude 
she had, repeatedly, sent ships to the coast of Flori- 
da, to gain tidings of him, and could he have known 
that the news of his death would bear her, heart- 
broken, to the grave, he might have rallied a sterner 
courage, and pressed to the sea-shore, with those who 
finallv returned to their native laud. 



FERDINAND DE SOTO. 133 

Tlie depression of spirits, whicli at first prostrated 
De Soto, soon induced a malignant fever. While he 
lay thus helpless, the Indian messenger returned from 
the cacique of Quigalta, with a fierce, defiant reply 
to his demands. " You say you are the child of the 
sun. Dry up the river, and I will believe you. Do 
you desire to see me ? Visit the town where I dwell. 
If you come in peace, I will receive you with good- 
will ; if in war, I will not shrink one foot back," was 
the message of the undaunted chieftain. Poor com- 
fort to the dying commander. 

A few days after, De Soto called his followers about 
him, and told them of his approaching death. He ap- 
pointed a successor, asked forgiveness for wrong that 
he might have done any one, thanked them for their 
loyalty, and prayed for God's mercy, and the accept- 
ance of his departing soul. He died on the 21st of 
May. Few attentions, and fewer comforts, soothed 
his last hours, since a constant look-out for attacks 
from the natives, who had gathered along the oppo- 
site banks of the river, diverted and distracted the 
thoughts of those to whom he looked. It was neces- 
sary to conceal his death, for the Indians had been 
taught to believe the Christians were immortal, and 
they particularly regarded De Soto as a brave war- 
rior, whom none could oppose. His death would be 
the signal for their onset. 

His body was concealed for two or three days, but 
the Indians, who had occasionally visited the camp, 
missed him, and suspected the truth. Fearful lest his 



134 DISCO VEEEES AXD PIOISTEEES OF AMEEICA. 

remains should be discovered, he was buried in the 
dead of night, near one of the gates of the little town 
which they had converted into a camp. The Ibliow- 
ing day, the watchful visitors spied the broken earth, 
and exchanged glances of suspicion, and again in- 
quired for the valiant leader. De Soto was not suf- 
fered to remain in his unsafe grave. When the 
darkness of midnight came, a boat, bearing a few 
grave, gloomy Spaniards, put out stealthily from be- 
neath the overhanging branches of the forest, that 
lined the banks. The dipping of the tell-tale oars 
was muffled in soft strokes, yet the soldiers moved 
breathlessly down the deej), swift stream, as if a 
thousand dark forms were bending along the shore to 
catch the sound. They rowed far out into the river, 
midway between the two banks, where the strange, 
fearful sounds of a vast wilderness, the rustling and 
moaning of the wind among the trees, and the shrill, 
musical notes of the mocking-bird, offered a distant 
dirge. With the few Catholic rites that haste could 
bestow, De Soto, wrapped in his Indian mantle, was 
lifted to the edge of the boat, and dropped into the 
waters, that opened and received him, and swept on. 
to the gulf below.* 

The succeeding day, the Indians observed the sad 
countenances of the Spaniards, and believing De Soto 

* The burial of De Soto has been represented by an artist, as a 
bright, moonlight scene, with the accompaniment of flaming 
torches. This beautiful painting disagrees with history, which rep- 
resents the act as performed under circumstances of the utmost con- 
cealment. 



FEEDINAND DE SOTO. 135 

was dead, contiimed to question his mysterious disap- 
pearance. They were assured that he had gone to 
heaven, but would return in a few days. A cacique 
offered the sacrifice of two Indians, to accompany 
and serve him in the spiritual world ; but, he was told 
that De Soto's own soldiers had gone with him and 
would come again. The cacique, accustomed to dis- 
simulation himself, would not believe the account. 
Dreading the result of these suspicions, the Spaniards, 
under their new commander, immediately prepared 
to seek the sea-side. They dismissed nearly all the 
slaves, who had accompanied them throughout the 
expedition, from want of food to suj)port them. They 
then embarked in boats, or brigantines, rudely con- 
structed, and yielded themselves to the swift course 
of the river. After frequent encounters with the In- 
dians, they reached the ocean. There, they were 
many days at the mercy of a furious tempest. At 
last they landed in the same harbor, from whence, 
five years before, De Soto had led them to expected 
triumphs, and kingly fortunes. Additions had been 
made to the small colony, left there by De Soto. His 
return had long been unlooked for, and it was sup- 
posed, both in the Indies and Spain, that he and his 
followers had perished in the wilderness. The unex- 
pected arrival was welcomed with joyful celebrations, 
and the forlorn adventurers were conducted thence to 
Mexico, and afterwards to Spain ; occasioning as much 
excitement and wonder, upon their route, as the con- 
querors themselves had roused. 



336 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AIMEEICA. 

Thus ended the splendid expedition, winch had 
promised to outdo all that preceded it. De Soto 
risked his fortune and reputation in it, and a retribu- 
tive Providence permitted the same cause to despoil, 
that had enriched him. Personal ambition, more than 
a desire to enlighten the world, actuated him. He 
was haughty, proud, and firm, but neither cruel nor 
unjust, when compared with the ferocious conquerors 
of his time, or when the bigoted and severe meas- 
ures, universally employed by Catholic nations, are 
considered. He was honorable, frank and fearless — 
possessed unsurpassed energy, and an indomitable 
will. These qualities endeared him to his followers, 
and, at the same time, enabled him to wield the irre- 
sistible power, which an unwavering decision of char- 
acter, and strong will, gives over weaker minds. His 
troops would have fallowed him to the uttermost 
bounds of the continent, without a murmur, had he 
chosen to lead them there. 

De Soto, in all his wanderings, " found nothing so 
remarkable as his burial place," as a historian justly 
remarks. His devoted companions fitly consigned 
him to the depths of the giant river, whichisaperpetu- 
al record of his achievements. He needs no other 
inscription upon the tomb, that should be raised to 
him beside the " Father of Waters," than that which 
60 briefly immortalizes Sir Christopher Wren, in St. 
Paul's Cathedral, — " OircumsjpiceP 



IV. 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

The name of Raleigh is enrolled among the dis- 
tinguished statesmen of England ; it is upon the list 
of the coquettish and whimsical Elizabeth's favor- 
ites ; is honorably" numbered among the celebrated 
authors of her reign ; is brilliantly recorded with the 
gallant captors of Cadiz, and is inscribed upon the 
pages of American history, both as the seeker of an 
El Dorado, in the yet half-explored regions of the 
Orinoco, and as the discoverer, and active patron of 
the State christened in honor of the Yirgin Queen. 

In this rare, and perhaps unequaled, combination 
of talent, he proved himself accomplished as a schol- 
ar, graceful and fascinating as a courtier, eloquent 
and forcible as a politician, an impetuous, skillful sol- 
dier, and a persevering, hardy navigator. His bold 
and vigorous intellect, and power of concentration, 
enabled him to engage in a variety of pursuits with 
ease ; and an ardent, sanguine temperament, impelled 
him to a degree of success in each, which modera- 
tion could never have aspired to, or attained. 

.Shakspeare, the cotemporary of Ealeigh, may, in- 



138 DISCO VEEERS AITO PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

deed, have drawn from the latter liis portrait of 
Prince Hamlet — 

"The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, STVord 
Tlie expectancy and rose of the fair state. 
The glass of fashion "and the mould of form, 
The observed of all observers ! " 

His faults were as conspicuous as his virtues, and 
he took no pains to conceal them. Yain, ambitious, 
fond of display, — unprincipled, though not vicious, 
servile to those in power, and haughty towards his 
inferiors, he managed to obtain the mingled derision 
and envy of his competitors, and extreme unpopular- 
ity among the people. All England detested him be- 
fore half his career was spent. Among the populace, 
his plainly visible faults were deemed the exuber- 
ance of wickedness, rather than recklessly exposed 
defects, which most men are adroit enough to conceal. 

The troubled experience of half a century, and a 
long imprisonment, however, modified and softened 
the character of Raleigh. A belief in true Christian- 
ity, and an acceptance of the promises of the Redeem- 
er, displaced his early atheistical principles, and pre- 
pared him to meet his sad and undeserved fate with 
calm, heroic endurance. 

Sir Walter was the fourth son of "Walter Raleigh, 
an untitled, Englisli gentleman. His mother was the 
widow of Otho Gilbert. After her luarriage with 
Raleigh, they resided upon a farm, called Hayes, in 
Devonshire, beautifully situated on the banks of the 
Otter, not far from the sea-coast. Walter was born 



SIR ■WALTER RALEIGH. 139 

here, in 1552 — the same year that placed the bigoted 
Mary njDon the throne of England. The seclnsion of 
his home prevented any familiarity with the fearful 
scenes of her reign ; w^iether he listened to their re- 
cital, or what were the incidents and impressions of 
his childhood, is not known. Nothing earlier is cited 
of him than his collegiate course, at Oxford. Of his 
aptness and application while there. Lord Bacon 
gives evidence, and, at that time, foretold his future 
eminence. 

At seventeen, Raleigh was a spirited, courageous, 
well-informed youth, ready to engage in any hazard- 
ous enterprise, in which success would obtain him 
honor. England, but lately freed from Catholic do- 
minion, sympathized with the sufi'ering Huguenots of 
France. Her young noblemen gallantly volunteered 
their assistance to the queen of Navarre, w^hom Eliz- 
abeth had already befriended. The ambitious young 
Raleigh was awake to the enthusiasm that pervaded 
the high-born aspirants for fame, and, with them, was 
prompted by a nobler motive to aid the cause of a 
people, persecuted for their religion. A select com- 
pany of one hundred of the young nobility, under the 
command of Henry Charapernon, sailed for France, 
and arrived in the Protestant camp in October, 1569.- 
' Finem det mihi mrtus^'' was the motto inscribed 
upon their banner, which they bore with a feeling of 
2)ride and ardor, yet unwithered by experience. 

They were gratefully received by the queen and 
princess ; but here history leaves them. "What feats "" 



140 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

they performed, or what success attended their arms, 
is not recorded ; though it is to be presumed, that 
young cavaliers, of high mettle and martial enthusi- 
asm, zealously espousing the cause of their own Pro- 
testant faith, against the oppression of Popery, must 
have bravely represented their nation. The actions 
in which they engaged, were the first lessons of a 
course of live years of warfare, that disciplined Ka- 
leigh into an able commander. A pupil in the ranks 
of the brilliant, but ill-fated Coligny, and a witness 
of, and participator in the countless sieges, marches, 
massacres and stratagems, attendant upon a civil 
strife, he became an adept in the tactics of war. Un- 
der the wing of the British Ambassador, he, to some 
extent, became initiated in the secret workings of poli- 
tics, and a witness of the skillful manoeuvres of states- 
men as well as warriors ; and, an associate of the no- 
ble defenders of the Huguenot cause in intervals of 
relaxation, he acquired the polish, ease and gallantry 
peculiar to French society. 

With his well-stored lessons, gleaned from the field 
of battle, from the cabinet, and from the gay saloons 
of Paris, Kaleigh returned to England, and to a re- 
tired, studious life, seemingly with no plan for the 
future. He preferred the soldier's profession, but, in 
the halls of the Middle Temple, awaited events that 
would shape his course. It is asserted by some that 
he studied law while there ; others presume, with 
more probability, that he was simply a resident there, 
and that his leisure was devoted to the muses, as his 



Snt WALTER RALEIGH. 141 

poetr} testifies. Rhyming was an indispensable ac- 
complishment of the day, and Raleigh's ready talent 
was as apt for versifying, as for every other pursuit. 
Several of his compositions reflect credit upon his 
poetical taste. Some portion of those three years of 
repose, must, likewise, have been devoted to close 
reading ; his finished scholarship could not have been 
so thoroughly attained, during his subsequent active 
life. 

In 1578, the military career was again open to his 
choice. Don John, of Austria, was at war with the 
Netherlands, where his tyrannical government had 
been sturdily opposed. The sceptre of the States had 
been given him by his brother, the king of Spain, to 
divert him from more ambitious desio-ns. His mis- 
chievous propensities, however, could not be rocked to 
sleep in a golden cradle. Flushed by a successful 
battle against the Turks, and boastful of the Pope's 
favor, he formed the project of rescuing and marry- 
ing the unfortunate Queen of Scots, and subsequently 
claiming the British throne. However absurd the 
plan, " Don John's haughty conceit of himself over- 
came the greatest difficulties, though his judgment 
was over-weak to manage the leabC," as Raleigh him- 
self says. The haughty Elizabeth determined to pun- 
ish his temerity. A body of troops was dispatched 
to the Netherlands, under the comman.d of Sir John 
Norris. Raleigh joined this army, but there is no 
account of his having distinguished himself in the 
expedition. He was, doubtless, present at the famous 



143 DISCOTEEEKS AKD PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

and decisive battle of Rimenant, wl"ien,bja cunning 
stratagem, Don John and his army were completely 
overthrown. 

Raleigh returned to England, and, in the following 
year, engaged in a voyage of discovery with his half- 
brother. Sir Humphrey Gilbert. He seized upon 
every opportunity to secure distinction and extend 
his knowledge. His early experience in nautical af- 
fairs, however, was of short duration. The desertion 
of one of the largest ships in the fleet, and an encoun- 
ter with the Spaniards, so disabled the expedition, 
that it was soon obliged to put back into port. 

JSTotwithstanding Raleigh's varied and broken life, 
he found time for intellectual labor. He allowed 
himself but five hours, out of the twenty -four, for 
sleep, and four were regularly appropriated to study. 
"When unavoidably interrupted by his occupations, 
he shared the hardships and labor of the common sol- 
diers and sailors ; mingled with them, studied theii 
various phases of character, and never failed to find 
sources of information in the most humble. Such en- 
ergy and diligence could not fail to earn a coveted 
fame. 

At this time, a rebellion in Ireland called forth ac- 
tive measures, on the part of the English. The op- 
pressive laws which debarred the Catholics from gov- 
ernmental office, roused the independent spirit of the 
Irish leaders, and the emissaries of the Pope goaded 
their discontent to open insurrection. Philip of 
Spain took part with them, in revenge for Elizabeth's 



Sm WALTER KALEIGH. 143 

aid to the Huguenots. But, before affairs were per- 
fected in Ireland, Lord Grey was dispatched with a 
body of troops, to silence the murmurs, by swift and 
unsparing punishment. 

Raleigh was appointed captain of a troop of horse. 
He occupied a prominent position in all the move- 
ments of the army, and frequently signalized him- 
self in daring adventures and hair-breadth escapes. 
There was no general engagement ; the undisciplined 
insurgents required a diff"erent mode of warfare. As 
is cursorily told by Belknap, Raleigh's duties " were 
difficult, often painful, and eminently perilous ; to 
capture a rebellious and suspected chieftain, to hunt 
outlaws, to disperse the hourly gatherings of half- 
naked, but exasperated peasants, to burn, to pillage, 
to kill," were occupations little suited to Raleigh's 
taste. The cold-blooded butcheries he was obliged 
to superintend, excited his disgust. He would have 
gloried in a fair contest, on the battle-field, but seiz- 
ing and executing rebels, was not the realization of 
his ideal warrior. He wrote to the Earl of Leicester, 
that " he disdained his place and charge, as much as 
to keep sheep," and hoped for a speedy return from 
that " commonwealth, or rather common-wo." 

His valor and address were signally displayed, du- 
ring his stay in L'eland, on various occasions ; partic- 
ularly in his capture of Lord Roche, an influential, 
insurgent nobleman, who occupied a castle three 
miles from Cork, where Raleigh was stationed. The 
road thither led through rocky defiles, and over 



144: DISCOVEEEKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

precipitous hills, which were occupied by bands of 
rebels, prepared to waylay scouting parties. The 
difficulties of the route, and the seizure of a chieftain 
in his stronghold, and in the very face of his retain- 
ers, were obstacles that excited Raleigh's adventur- 
ous spirit. With a party of picked men, he set out 
on a dark night, reached the castle in safety, and ob- 
tained admittance by a cunning stratagem. After 
coolly partaking of the nobleman's hospitality, he an- 
nounced his intention of immediately conveying him 
and his family prisoners to Cork. Lord Roche en- 
deavored to dissuade him, on account of the darkness 
and storm, which greatly increased the dangers of 
the road. Raleigh was not to be foiled, however. 
He hastily set out with his prize, and, under cover of 
the storm, reached Cork at daybreak, without molesta- 
tion, but with sufficient evidence of the perils they had 
undergone, in the dead body of one of the soldiers, 
and in the bruises several had received from repeated 
falls on the wild route. The English governor was 
greatly astonished at the presentation of this noble 
prisoner. Raleigh's daring spirit was a theme of 
admiration in the camp. 

"When the Earl of Osmond returned to England, 
Raleigh succeeded him as Governor of Munster, in 
conjunction with two other officers. He was en- 
trusted with the chief command of the city of Cork, 
then consisting of but one street, terminated by a 
bridge over the Lee. 

His services in the Irish wars, though sufficient to 



BIE WALTER KAiEIGH. 1-i > 

gain him reputation among military men, could not 
distinccuisli liim in the brilliant court of Elizabeth. 
He was entirely overshadowed by the greatness of 
the guilty and deceptive Leicester, the talented and 
high-minded Sidney, and the blunt, but influential 
Sussex. His introduction at court has been attrib- 
uted to those noblemen, but tradition plausibly re- 
lates a characteristic incident, as the immediate cause 
of his promotion. . 

Raleigh was excessively fond of display. He had 
expended nearly the whole of his limited income upon 
an expensive and gay attire, which vied with the 
"beruffled and embroidered gallants" of his time. 
One day, after a shower, Elizabeth enjoyed her usual 
walk, with a gay retinue of ladies and cavaliers, who 
buzzed as plentifully in her path, as golden bees on 
the drapery of modern French royalty. Upon com- 
ing to a muddy spot, she hesitated to soil her dainty 
foot, used as it was to treading the rush-strewn floors 
of the palace. Raleigh was near, observed her di- 
lemma, and, instantly divesting his shoulders of an 
elegantly embroidered cloak, spread it upon the 
ground, with an air of chivalric gallantry that de- 
lighted and flattered Elizabeth. She "trod gently 
over, rewarding him afterwards with many suits, for 
'so seasonable a tender of so fair a footcloth." 

The strength, symmetry, and dignity of Raleigh's 
person, his striking, handsome features, and polite 
flourish of manner, too exaggerated to j)lease a looker- 
on, but delightfully flattering to Elizabeth's unbound- 
G 10 



Ii6 DISCOYEREES AND PIONEERS OF A]VrERICA. 

ed vanity, formed a tout enseirihle^ that did not escape 
the eye of such a connoisseur of manly beauty, as was 
the maiden monarch. She singled him out for further 
consideration ; for, with all her weaknesses, Elizabeth 
would bestow her confidence or patronage only upon 
those, whose genius largely filled the measure of 
merit. ]^ot long after this first incidental meeting, 
Raleigh stood in a window recess, and, at a moment 
when the queen perceived his movements, wrote with 
a diamond, upon one of the panes : 

" Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall." 

Willing to encourage her promising protege, Eliza- 
beth added the unmusical, but significant rhyme : 

" If thy heart fail thee, do not climb at all." 

A dispute with Lord Grey, in presence of the coun- 
cil, during which Raleigh defended himself with an 
.acuteness and eloquence that gained his cause, in spite 
of his formidable opponent, brought him prominently 
and favorably before the public, and threw him inti- 
mately in the circles of the nobility. The queen soon 
honored him with an appointment to attend Simier, 
the French ambassador, to France, and, afterwards, to 
accompany the retinue of noblemen who conducted 
the Duke of Anjou to Antwerp, after Elizabeth's re- 
fusal of his hand. Raleigh there met the Prince of 
Orange, who had not forgotten his youthful services 
in France, and who persuaded him to remain after 



BIB WALTER RALEIGH. 147 

the others haa departed, and made him the i.earer of 
a special letter to the English monarch. 

About this time, Italeigh received a license for the 
vending of wines — a monopoly which so speedily 
enriched him, that he was enabled to prosecute a plan 
he had long revolved. He had for years been inter- 
ested in accounts of American discoveries, and had 
engaged in Sir Humphrey Gilbert's last expedition, 
so far as to superintend, and bear a portion of the ex- 
pense of, one of the largest vessels in the fleet. The 
unhappy fate of Sir Humphrey did not dishearten 
Raleigh. On the contrary, he immediately applied 
for a renewal of that navigator's patent, \vith the in- 
tention of himself continuing explorations towards the 
north. The route of voyagers was, nearly M'ithout 
exception, to the West Indies, and thence to Florida, 
or to the south. The low shores that swept away to 
the north, had yet been untouched, except in the icy 
Arctic regions. 

Elizabeth approved of his project, and granted him 
a patent of discovery, in the spring of 156-1. With 
the assistance of two wealthy kinsmen, Raleigh im- 
mediately equipped two barks, and placed them un- 
der the command of Philip Armadas and Arthur 
Barlow, who sailed, in April of the same year. They 
touched at the Canaries, and the Indies, and arrived, 
in July near the coast of Florida, where they noted, 
with delight, indications of the close vicinity of luxu- 
riant shores, in the richly perfumed, breezes that 
greeted them. Coasting northward, they arrived at 



148 DISCOVERERS AOT> PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

an island called Wococon, cast anchor and landed. 
The island was closely wooded with cedar, pine, and 
sassafras. Vines, laden with grapes, clambered over 
them in every direction, and trailed along the shore 
in rich exuberance, the broad leaves and the purple 
clusters being often bathed in the surging waves. 

The inhabitants were found to be gentle, faithful, 
and hospitable. They fearlessly approached the voy- 
agers, examined them with the utmost simplicity, of- 
fered abundant provisions, trafficked with them, and 
urged them to revisit their shores. Some suspicions, 
however, were entertained of the good faith of these 
savages. As soon as the Indians perceived their 
doubts, they broke their arrows in pieces, and made 
every possible demonstration of friendliness. The 
king wore a crown of copper, as a sign of his rank, 
and, upon receiving a tin plate in exchange for skins, 
immediately, and with great satisfaction, converted it 
into a breast-plate. The wife of one of the principal 
caciques, a shrinking, timid Indian beauty, wore a 
mantle of deer-skin, and a string of white coral about 
her head, to confine her long and loosely flowing 
hair. Bracelets, necklaces, and ear-rings of large 
pearls, profusely decorated her person. She as un- 
hesitatingly bestowed them upon her English admi- 
rers, as a modern belle would scatter rose-leaves 
among her devotees. 

The captains prosecuted their discoveries no larther 
north than Wococon, but returned to England, with 
glowing accounts of the fruitful country they had 



SIE WALTER EALEIGH. 149 

seen. Elizabeth was so well pleased with its prom- 
ised advantages, that she christened it Virginia, and 
encouraged Raleigh to complete the discovery thus 
begun, by granting an additional license for the vend- 
ing of wines, to defray expenses. 

The same year, the order of knighthood was con- 
ferred upon Raleigh — a distinction which Elizabeth 
rarely bestov ed. He was also elected knight of the 
shire for his native county of Devon. The following 
winter, he introduced a bill in the House of Com- 
mons, to confirm his patent for discovery. After 
some difficulty, it passed both houses, and received 
the queen's assent. The same year, Elizabeth put in 
execution her design of peopling Munster with an 
English colony. She bestowed upon Sir "Walter and 
his heirs, twelve thousand acres, in the counties of 
Cork and Waterford, on condition of his planting and 
improving them, and in reward of his services during 
the rebellion. 

Notwithstanding his accumulation of business, Ra- 
leigh prepared a second expedition to Virginia. As 
before, he was assisted by Sir Richard Grenville, who 
took command of the seven vessels forming the squad- 
ron, and sailed for Plymouth, on the ninth of April. 
1585. After narrowly escaping shipwreck, they ar- 
rived, in three mouths, at Wococon. They were 
greeted with the same kindness and hospitality as be- 
fore, and the natives piloted them in boats all along 
the shores of Albemarle Sound, and the adjacent is- 
lands. The happy understanding that had existed 



150 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

between the natives and their guests, was broken by 
the rash and unworthy revenge, taken by Grenville, 
for the stealing of a silver cnp, while at the island of 
Aquascogok. The offender was detected, and prom- 
ised to return it, but, because the Indian delayed its 
restoration, Sir Eichard ordered the town to be 
burned, and the fields of corn to be destroyed. The 
terrified natives fied to the woods, quickly learned 
the lesson of treachery, withdrew their confidence 
from the ungrateful and unjust comers, and silently, 
but surely, nursed a revenge which descended with 
fearful mystery upon a succeeding colony. 

Sir Richard Grenville returned to England in Sep- 
tember, leaving one hundred and eight persons to 
attempt a settlement, under the government of Ralph 
Lane. They fortified themselves upon the island of 
Roanoke, and extended their discoveries as far south 
as Pamlico Sound, and as far north as Chesapeake 
Bay. Albemarle Sound and Chowan River were 
also explored. But while absent upon these expedi- 
tions, Wingina, king of the tribe at Roanoke, formed 
a secret plot to destroy a people, who had displayed 
their power so signally on a neighboring island. It was 
ripe for execution, when the unexpected return of 
Lane, and its immediate betrayal to him, foiled their 
purpose. The English seized all the canoes moored 
at the island, to ensure their own safety ; but the 
movement both exasperated and alarmed the Indians. 
A skirmish ensued, in which several natives were 
killed ; Ihe rest took refuge in the woods. 



SIE WALTER RALEIGH. 151 

Distrust and hatred now existed on both sides. 
"Wingina stealthily scoured the forests, conferre.d with 
his warriors, and led them, with cat-like tread, to the 
outskirts of the little settlement. But the Euglish, 
whose senses were acutely alive to everj'^ sign of dan- 
ger, discovered each attempt at a secret onset. The 
natives were finally outwitted. Wingina and eight 
of his tribe were entrapped, and the fate they had de- 
signed for the colony, was inflicted npon themselves. 
Their death, so far from mtimidating the remainder 
of the tribe, strengthened their pur]30se of ven- 
geance. 

Tlius, at open war with the natives, the English no 
longer enjoyed the security necessary to their pros- 
perity. An artist and a historian had been sent by 
Haleigh, to obtain as complete a representation of 
Virginia as possible, but their employments, as well 
as those of the explorers, were greatly impeded by 
the awakened hostility of the natives. With one 
voice, the colonists petitioned Sir Francis Drake, then 
cruising in the Atlantic, and who touched at Roanoke, 
to convey them to England. They were readily ad- 
mitted on board the fleet. Freed from their long- 
continued peril, they gladly beheld the shores of the 
New World vailed and lost in the haze of distance ; 
but not more exultingly than the Indians watched 
their departure and disaj)pearance, in the huge ca- 
noes they had once been simple enough to believe 
were borne along by swift clouds, at the bidding of 
the godlike pale-faces. The mantle of mightiness had 



152 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

fallen from their shoulders, and revealed, to the 
Indians, mortals as little divine as themselves. 

Had Lane detained the colonists a fortnight longer, 
Roanoke might have been a flourishing settlement, 
rather than the desert it became. Soon after their 
departure, Sir Eichard Grenville arrived, with a 
strong reinforcement of men, and provision for two 
years. Unable to gain any tidings of Lane and his 
colony. Sir Eichard left l]fty men, and the cargo, upon 
the island, with the hope of relieving his countrymen, 
if they had wandered into the wilderness. 

Lane, however, arrived at Plymouth, in July, 1586. 
He brought with him — probably by Ealeigh's sug- 
gestion — the first tobacco introduced into England. 
Ealeigh had met with it in France, and he now made 
use of it in England. It is amusingly related of his 
initiatory experience, that his servant entered his 
study one day, with a foaming tankard of ale and 
nutmeg toast, and perceiving, for the first time, clouds 
of smoke issuing from his master's lips, believed he 
was sufiering an internal conflagration. The contents 
of the tankard were instantly flung in Ealeigh's face, 
with the generous intent of extinguishing the com- 
bustion, and then the terrified servant ran through 
the house, shouting that " his master was on fire, and 
would be burned to ashes, before they could come to 
his aid." 

Ealeigh was, at this time, higli in Elizabeth's favor. 
She had bestowed many gifts upon him, and highly 
estimated his worth and services. He was the oracle 




sm WALTER UALEIGTI AND TllS SERVANT. 



Sm WALTER EALEIGH. 153 

of the court, and a leader of gayety and fashion. As 
the fashionable world delight in imitating the " most 
received star," and do not presume to omit even the 
faults of their model, of course Sir "Walter had no 
sooner pressed the tobacco-pipe with his eloquent lips, 
than all London was puffing the fragrant smoke. La- 
dies did not disdain to indulge in an occasional whiff, 
and even the queen jjermitted it in her presence. 
Raleigh frequently boasted of its numberless virtues^ 
and assured his partial sovereign that " no one under- 
stood them better than himself, for he was so well ac- 
quainted with all its qualities, that he could even tell 
her majesty the specific weight of the smoke of every 
pipe-full he consumed." Elizabeth, though accus- 
tomed to rely upon Raleigh's good faith, believed he 
was imposing upon her credulity, and laid a consid- 
erable wager with him, that he could not prove his 
assertion. He immediately weighed a certain amount 
of tobacco, smoked it deliberately and gracefully, and, 
while his royal spectator smiled at the curling clouds, 
moving away beyond the power of his boasted com- 
putation, he soberly weighed the ashes that remained, 
and convinced her majesty that the difference in 
weight gave the proposed result. Elizabeth admitted 
the logic of his experiment, and willingly paid the bet, 
telling him " that she knew of many persons who had 
turned their gold into smoke, but he was the first 
who had turned smoke into gold." 

Although disappointed in his first attempts to 
settle Virginia, Raleigh, the following year, sent 
G* 



154 DISCOVEEEES AiN'D PI0NEEE3 OF ASIEEICA. 

three ships, with a number of emigrants, and John 
"White, as governor, to secure the settlement of the 
hostile province. The colonists were directed to 
found the " City of Raleigh," at the head of the 
Chesapeake Bay, but, by some disagreement with the 
naval officer, they were obliged to make Roanoke 
their destination. They arrived at that fated spot, 
after a wearisome and tempestuous voyage, expecting 
a glad welcome from the fifty who had peopled Lane's 
deserted fort. But not a sound, nor the sight of a 
human being gladdened them, as they landed upon 
the desolate island. The rude houses were hiding- 
places for wild beasts and crawling serpents ; the 
, fort lay in ruins ; the gardens were overgrown with 
tall, rank weeds ; and the only traces that remained 
of the unfortunate colony, were a few scattered, hu- 
man bones. The long-cherished vengeance of the In- 
dians had been vented upon them, and now, with a 
whetted taste for the white man's blood, lay in wait 
for the newly-arrived victims. 

The busy industry of the sturdy English, soon re- 
stored a thriving aspect to the twice desolated settle- 
ment. One tribe of Indians proved amicable. Their 
cacique, Manteo, had accompanied Sir Richard Gren- 
ville on his return voyage to England, and from tliat 
time proved a faithful friend to the whites. By the 
direction of Sir Walter, he received Christian bap- 
tism, and was created a feudal baron, with the title 
of Lord of Roanoke — a solitary dignity, and one that 
seems mockingly bestowed upon the chieftain of a 



SER WALTER EALEIGF. 155 

race whose rights were nsurped, and whose existence 
was soon to be but a tradition. 

A birth, as well as a baptism, is recorded in the 
short history of this colony. Eleanor Dare, the wife 
of one of the assistants, and the dangliter of Governor 
"White, gave birth to the first English child on the 
soil of the United States. It was named Virginia, in 
honor of its birth-place. Soon after these events, and 
before the departure of the ships, it was found neces- 
sary to dispatch some one to England for assistance, 
as dependence had been placed upon the expected 
success of the previous colony. Xone was so compe- 
tent to seek it as Governor White. He was unani- 
mously chosen ; but a sense of honor caused him to 
demur. The colony had been entrusted to his guar- 
dianship, and he was unwilling to desert it. His 
scruples were finally overruled, and he departed for 
England, leaving his daughter and grand-child as 
pledges of his speedy return. 

When Governor White arrived in England, ho 
found it in a state of agitation and alarm, on account 
of the threatened invasion of Spain. Sir Walter Ra- 
leiglr was one of the queen's council of war, and it 
was impossible to gain his attention to the danger of 
his distant colony, when home afi'airs so instantly de- 
manded his time. The importunities of the governor, 
however, secured the outfit of two vessels, under Sir 
Richard Grenville ; these were ready for sailing, and 
only waited for a fa r wind, when the increasing 
alarm throughout the kingdom, and the rapid ap- 



156 DISCOVEEEES AND PI0NEEE8 OF AMEEICA. 

proach of the Invincible Armada, caused every ship 
in port to be retained for defence. 

Whatever were the feelings of White, in seeing the 
colony thus neglected, it was useless to plead any 
further. It was not till spring approached, that he 
could again be heard. Raleigh was still overwhelmed 
with business, and had made heavy disbursements in 
the cause that awakened so much patriotism. But 
he was deeply interested in the Yirginian settlement, 
and his sympathies were enlisted in its apprehended 
fate. He ordered two ships to be prepared, which 
sailed in April, 1588, with fifteen " planters," and an 
abundant supply of provisions. These " planters," 
more bent upon the pursuit of riches than upon aiding 
the colony, went in chase of Spanish ships that fell in 
their way, and, with the audacity of conquerors, fresh 
from victory, battled with the superior ships, and were 
defeated. Rifled and disabled, they were obliged to 
return to England, to the mortification of Sir Walter, 
and his displeasure at this fatal delay. 

Raleigh's resources had been enlarged by the queen, 
yet his expenditures had been so great that he could 
no longer support his undertakings in America. The 
failure of each expedition disheartened him ; and as 
he saw no probability of a reimbursement of the forty 
thousand pounds of his own and his friends' fortunes, 
already expended, he made an assignment of his pa- 
tent to several London merchants, with a donation of 
one hundred pounds for the propagation of the Chris- 
tiou religion in Virginia. 



SIK WALTER KALEIGH. 157 

An expedition was not in readiness till the follow- 
ing year, 1590, in which Governor "White embarked, 
with the faint hope of relieving his countrymen. 
Three years had passed since he left them. Despite 
his exertions, not a vessel had touched upon their 
shores during those j^ears. The thought of his be- 
loved and suffering daughter, and of his friends, left 
to perish in a wilderness, among hostile savages, har- 
rassed him continually. His suspense and anxiety 
were increased by the failure of each of his efforts, at 
the moment of expected success. He scarcely believed 
this last expedition would be effected. When the 
fleet finally sailed, his eagerness was severely tried 
by the obduracy and indifference of the officers. He 
wrote bitterly to Hakluyt, that " the governors, mas- 
ters, and sailors regarded very smally the good of 
their countrymen in Virginia," as, with all his urgent 
entreaties, they made no haste, nor cared to maintain 
the shortest route. When they arrived at the island 
of Roanoke, it was a desert. The trees and grass 
were blackened and burnt, and the houses were de- 
molished, and converted into palisades. The word 
Oroatan was carved upon one of the trees. With the 
faint hope of finding the sufferers on the island of 
that name, the ships set sail again, but, owing to 
storms and threatened shipwreck, returned to Eng- 
land without further search. ^Whether the colonists 
lingered through the long horrors of a famine, or 
whether they amalgamated with the friendly Indians, 



158 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

and were scattered over the continent, or if they wore 
victims to the hatred of the same tribe that sacrificed 
the former settlers of Roanoke, is impossible to know. 
History leaves them there. Raleigh, however, re- 
peatedly attempted to discover the mystery, perhaps 
at the instigation of "White, who could not reconcile 
himself to the fearful fate of those endeared to him 
by precious ties. The island of Roanoke is to this 
day uninhabited, except, as a late historian says, by 
" the intrepid pilot and the hardy wrecker ; " who, "in 
their natures, wild as the storms to which their skill 
bids defiance, unconscious of the associations by which 
they are surrounded, are the only tenants of the spot 
where the inquisitive stranger may yet discern the 
ruins of the fort, round which the cottages of the new 
settlement were erected." 

Raleigh's ambition was now centered upon martial 
achievements. The military spirit of the oldest vete- 
rans, as well as of the youngest scions of nobility, was 
roused by the signal success of English arms, over the 
boasted Armada, and they eagerly engaged in a newly- 
proposed enterprise. 

The jealousy and hatred still entertained towards 
the Spaniards, found opportunity to exhaust itself in 
the cause of the Portuguese monarch, who had been 
expelled from his throne by King Philip, of Spain. 
Don Antonio was in London, at the time of the defeat 
of the Armada, and, taking advantage of events, ap- 
plied to Elizabeth for aid. She readily granted it ; 



SIB WALTEK KALEIGH. 159 

for, proud of the gallant defence sustained against the 
invaders, she was willing to parade her power in the 
very face of the enemj. 

Raleigh engaged in this expedition. Though bravo, 
ardent, and skillful, he failed to excel the host of com- 
petitors, equally ambitious to be the heroes of battle. 
He shared with others, the honor of a golden chain, 
from the hands of the queen, in reward for his ser- 
vices ; but this could not have satisfied his aspira- 
tions. He had a rival at court, in the person of the 
fascinating Earl of Essex ; and, in order to retain his 
own position, left no means untried, to signalize him- 
self. His 3'oung antagonist had a powerful supporter, 
in the Earl of Leicester, who had befriended Raleigh, 
till " he found him such an apprentice as well enough 
knew how to set up for himself," and then successfully 
interposed his accomplished son, to the infinite cha- 
grin and uneasiness of the old favorite. 

Raleigh began now to experience the fickleness of 
royal favor. For some slight offence he was banished 
to Ireland. He consoled his disgrace, however, hy 
passing his exile with the poet Spenser, in his beau- 
tiful retreat, upon the banks of the Mulla. They had 
formed a mutual friendshij) during the Irish rebel- 
lion, when Spenser was secretary under Lord Grey. 
Queen Elizabeth had bestowed upon the poet a large 
grant of land, on condition that he should colonize it; 
with that in view, he resided at his Castle of Kilcol- 
man, in Armulladale, which he happily pictures in 
'* Colin Clout's come home againe." It was in this 



160 DISCO VEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

unfrequented home, tLat Sir Walter, whom he names 
in his poem, the "Shepherd of the Ocean," found 
him one day — 

"Under the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar, 
Keeping his sheepe among'st the cooly shade 
Of the green a lers, by the Mullae's shore."" 

With his finely cultivated mind, his poetical taste, 
and his ready appreciation of genius, Raleigh must 
have luxuriated in this exchange of the clamor, in- 
trigue and wearing ambition of court life, for the 
soothing retirement of Kilcolman Castle, and the so- 
ciety of the imaginative and entertaining Spenser. 
They wandered together, along the banks of the riv- 
er, lingered under the shade of the larch, myrtle, 
and rare arbutus, or looked from the high towers of 
the castle upon the reach of green hill and dale, 
the distant ridges of the Bogra mountains, and the 
intervening lakes. 

Spenser amused his guest with the romances and 
wild traditions of Ireland, and Raleigh portrayed the 
passions and intrigues of tlie royal palace. The mo- 
dest poet at length ventured to produce his half-fin- 
ished manuscript of the " Faerie Queene," for his 
friend's approval. Ealeigh was enthusiastic in his 
admiration, and urged him to give it to the world. 
He promised his introduction to Queen Elizabeth, and 
the influence a favorite can exert, on the condition of 
his accompanying him to England. Spenser con- 
sented. The result was, the gift of a pension, and an 



SIE WALTER RALEIGH. 161 

honorable notice, but not the hoped-for appointment 
of poet laureate. 

Raleigh was cordially welcomed back by the queen. 
Always fearless and o]3en in his address, he present- 
ed the petitions of the many who applied to him, as 
freely and boldly as if he had never been a moment 
under her displeasure. The nature of the applica- 
tions, though often perplexing, heightened the medi- 
ator in her esteem, and she seldom gave an unfavor- 
able reply. His generous interference in the case of 
a clergyman, unjustly imprisoned, and in that of a 
poor officer, deprived of his dues, are among the ma- 
ny instances of his noble use of power. " He was 
above the narrow apprehension of repulse, or of laying 
himself under obligations," His intercessions were 
so frequent, at this time, that, on one occasion, Eliza- 
beth impatiently asked, — " When, Sir Walter, will 
you cease to be a beggar? " He promptly and grace- 
fully replied, — " When, madam, you cease to be a 
benefactress." 

In 1591, Raleigh was busily engaged in preparing 
for an expedition to Panama, with the intention of 
capturing, on the way, the Spanish fleet, which was 
expected to return from America, laden with newly 
gathered riches. The proposition so well recom- 
mended itself to the public, that thirteen ships were 
equipped by private adventurers, and two others were 
added by the queen, in approbation of the scheme. 
Sir Walter was appointed general of the fleet. With 
higli expectations, the squadron sailed May 6th, 1592. 

11 



162 DISOOVEKEKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMEEICA. 

TJnfavorable winds detained them npon the coast, till 
the season for executing their purpose, passed.. Or- 
ders were received from the queen to abandon the 
enterprise, but Raleigh was unwilling to give way 
before the first obstacle, and persisted in his design. 
He afterwards received intelligence, that the king of 
Spain had anticipated his measures, by detaining all 
his vessels in port, and ordering that no treasures be 
shipped from the Indies. Thus foiled. Sir Walter was 
obliged to return to England, after a short cruise, with 
but one captured vessel. 

Soon after his return, he was arrested for a dishon- 
orable intrigu-e with one of the queen's maids of 
honor, Elizabeth Throckmorton. She was the daugh- 
ter of a statesman and ambassador, and celebrated for 
her beauty. That her envied loveliness should have 
won Sir "Walter, and that he should have dared to ad- 
mire an}'' beside herself, was as unpardonable an of- 
fence, in the eyes of the vain queen, as the delin- 
quency of principle and virtue. She was disappoint- 
ed, too, to find th^t Raleigh's flattery was as insincere 
as that of Essex, whose deeds always belied his words. 
She revenged herself, and jjunished the lovers, by 
committing both to the Tower. Raleigh i-esorted to 
an efiicacious, but servile method to obtain his lib- 
erty. He pretended to be overpowered with grief 
at his separation from her majesty. One day, while 
the royal barge was passing up the Thames, he af- 
fected to become frantic at the sight, and attempted 
to rush down a stone stair-case that led from his win- 



SIE WALTER RALEIGH. 168 

flow. The keeper interj^osed, and a struggle ensued, 
in which Raleigh tore off the jailer's new periwig, 
and threatened to strike him with his dagger. He 
was finally carried back to the prison chamber, suffi- 
ciently satisfied that his ferocious attempt to see her 
majesty, would be duly reported to her, and have the 
desired effect. 

He also wrote a letter to Sir Robert Cecil, intended 
for the eye of the credulous queen, who delighted in 
nothing so much as to be praised for beauty she did 
not possess. " How," wrote he, " can I live alone in 
prison, when she is afar off — I, who was wont to be- 
hold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, 
walking like Venns — the gentle wind blowing her 
fair hair (both false and red) about her pure cheeks, 
like a nymph. Sometimes sitting in the shade like a 
goddess, sometimes playing on the lute like Orpheus." 

Two months after Raleigh penned this absurd and 
unmanly epistle, he was free. lie immediately mar- 
ried the lady, who, with him, had incurred disgrace; 
but this reparation, so far from appeasing the wrath 
of the queen, magnified the offence, for, as Agnes 
Strickland pleasantly says, " She certainly imagined 
that it was part of her prerogative, as a maiden queen, 
to keep every handsome gentleman of her court in 
single blessedness, to render exclusive homage to her 
perennial charms." Yet, the same yeaj', she granted 
him the manor of Sherbourne, in Dorsetshire, whisli 
he embellished with the utmost care and taste. 
G''Oves and artificial lakes ornamented the grounds, 



16i DISCOVER"EKS A.NT) PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

and rare slirubs and trees, from every clime, were 
gathered here to convert his new home into an Eden. 
He made this his residence during his retirement, for 
Elizabeth had forbidden his appearance at court. 

Despite the queen's displeasure. Sir Walter was 
elected a member of the Parliament which met in 
the spring of 1593. He was distinguished for his el- 
oquence, having a fine command of language, and an 
inexhaustible fund of information, from which he 
made the most skillful selections. His arguments 
were rendered forcible bj well-timed facts, and his 
imaginative qualities gave beauty and finish to his 
gracefully delivered speeches. 

While actively engaged in Parliament, he found 
time to perfect a scheme which had suggested itself 
to his restless mind, during his imprisonment. He 
had long sought to engage in som^e memorable ex- 
ploit, that should distinguish him above all the nota- 
bles of Elizabeth's reign, and irresistibly recommend 
him to her favor. The one he now purposed, was to 
conquer and explore the storied and beautiful empire 
of Guiana. Though the bravest of Spanish cavaliers 
had fallen in the attempt, and, though for a hundred 
years, fleet after fleet, and army after army, had been 
sacrificed in the blind search after the fabled El Do- 
rado, still Raleigh was not daunted. The very dan- 
gers it promised, attracted him. Unlike those who 
had gone before, he studied the causes of so many 
failures, informed himself, thoroughly, of the routes 
that had been pursued, consulted every possible 



Sm WALTER RALEIGH. 165 

source of information concerning those who had en- 
gaged in previous expeditions, and, from all he could 
gather, formed a plan which, being divested of the 
errors of his predecessors, Jie felt confident would 
succeed. 

He first dispatched an exjDerienced captain to re- 
connoitre the coast, and learn from the natives the 
truth of narrations which, though extravagant and 
absurd, were credited by many of the most intelligent 
of his time. 

The captain returned with satisfactory accounts of 
the empire's grandeur, and of the treachery of the 
Spaniards already settled there ; they having massa- 
cred some of the English sailors, after decoying them 
to their town, on pretense of furnishing supplies. This 
revived Raleigh's early hostility towards the Span- 
iards, and gave zest to his preparations. 

His fleet, consisting of five ships, sailed for Guiana 
February sixth, 1595, and arrived at Trinidad in 
March. He coasted a portion of that island, whose 
longest measurement is between sixty and seventy 
miles ; and traveled for miles on foot, alv"»ng the shore 
under the shade of banyan groves, some of whose 
thousand branches " planted themselves in the sea, 
and bore oysters." The banyan had its place among 
the fables of Guiana, as the "Tree of Knowledge." 

At Puerto cle los Espanoles, the voyagers found a 
company of Spaniards, who gave them valuable infor- 
mation of the topography and resources of the coun- 
try. The city ->f St. Joseph was but a short distance 



166 DISCOVERERS AM) PIOKTEERS OF AMERICA. 

from that settlement. Raleigh was determined to 
revenge himself upon it, for the massacre of his men, 
the previous year ; he was unwilling, too, to leave so 
formidable and wily an enemy in his rear, and hoped 
also, to gain tlie friendship of the natives, by deliv- 
ering some of their principal caciques, who were fam- 
ishing in chains, under the cruel power of Berreo, th-? 
Spanish governor. For these reasons, he surprised 
and burned *he city, and took the governor prisoner. 
He instantly released the suffering captives who, 
years afterwards, with Indian tenacity of memory, 
gratefully reminded him of his timely aid. This act, 
applauded as " noble " by some of Raleigh's biogra- 
phers, would be a most generous one, were not selfish 
motives too apparent, to name it anything higher than 
the skillful manoeuvring of a conqueror. 

Raleigh prepared to leave his ships at Trinidad, and 
to proceed, with one hundred men, to ferret out the 
wonders of Guiana. A small galley, a barge, two 
wherries, and a ship's boat, were the insignificant ac- 
companiments of the expedition. Berreo warned 
Raleigh of the difiiculties he would meet, and at- 
tempted to dissuade him from his purpose ; but, blind- 
ed by the same false imaginings, the same visionary 
dreams, that had enticed others, he pushed on with a 
vigor and resolution, that increased, rather than di- 
minished, at the dismal prospect his prisoner painted. 

The strong current between the continent and the 
island of Trinidad, occasioned by the outward flow 
of the Orinoco, renders the approach of vessels to the 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 167 

main land extremely dangerous. Dark rocks raise 
their isolated heads in the midst of the solitarj^gulf ; 
the green-colored, and rapid waters of the Orinoco 
dash over them in milk-white foam, struggling fari- 
ously with the dark blue waves of the sea. Into this 
fearful play of waters, Raleigh fearlessly plunged, 
and marvelously escaped the peril Berreo had prom- 
ised at the outset. But when arrived among the num- 
berless outlets of the gi'eat river, intricately braided, 
and apparently flowing in every direction, he was 
completely bewildered. At length, with the assist- 
ance of an old Indian guide, the river of the " Red 
Cross " was selected and pursued. 

As had been foretold, the explorers soon began to 
suffer from the drenching rains, the burning heat, and 
the destruction of their provisions by exposure to the 
weather. But, they continued their course with un- 
failing courage, till, striking into the Amana, one of 
the largest tributaries of the Orinoco, they were 
obliged to row against a strong current, between 
banks set with prickles and thoi-ns, and lined with 
overhanging trees. The branches were interlaced 
above them, shutting out every stirring breeze, and 
enclosing a humid, hot atmosphere, laden with mos- 
quitoes and swarms of minute insects. The intermi- 
nable windings of this labyrinthian stream, — the im- 
possibility of landing, and the effects of unaccus- 
tomed heat and constant labor, made them " ready 
to give up the ghost." They would have turned 
back, had not Raleigh, who shared their toil and pri- 



168 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONISERS OF AMERICA. 

vation, urged them on, by recounting the reward they 
would find in the golden city of Manoa. 
• When at the last extremity of suffering, " in des- 
pair and discomfort, the current every day stronger, 
themselves growing weaker, their bread at the last, 
and no drinke at all," they were suddenly relieved by 
emerging into an open and beautiful country, inter- 
sected by narrow streams, and occasional groves. An 
Indian village greeted their eyes, in this oasis of the 
wilderness they had traversed. Here they gladly 
refreshed themselves with the rude fare and kind hos- 
pitality of the natives. Fifteen days of their re- 
sumed voyage brought them to the Orinoco, and in 
sight of the long looked for mountains of Guiana, 
where were hidden the coveted mines, or among 
whose fastnesses El Dorado was concealed. They 
sailed up the magnificent river, that, ocean-like, had its 
shoals, its foaming billows, its islands and rocks, and 
coasted along its banks, that rolled back in rich, un- 
dulating plains, or were bordered with cocoas and 
towering palms. They anchored, at length, in the 
port of Morequito, three hundred miles from the sea. 
Exploring parties were now sent out in every direc- 
tion, to ascertain the nearest route to the mountains, 
or to seek the best gold-yielding soil. Sir Walter, 
with a small company, went in search of the Falls 
of Caroli, to whose roaring they listened while twenty 
miles distant. The scene that met Raleigh's eye in- 
spired him with a^ poet's enthusiasm. Doubtless, the 
belief in the close vicinity of the phantom city, and 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH. IGO 

the sure prospect of success after all their hardships, 
threw a brilliant coloring over the varied and striking 
landscape which Ealeigh saw from the heights of 
Caroli. Twelve falls, " every one as high over the 
other as a church tower," thundered and foamed down 
a channel, between tree-lined rocks, into the plain 
below, and rolled along, with a swift current, that 
poured into the Orinoco. The windings of the Ama- 
na were visible in the glimpses of a distant plain ; the 
intervening hills were crowned with the magnificent 
luxuriance, which foliage attains only in the warm- 
est climes ; and, far beyond, hazy mountains were 
outlined against the sky. Deer, tame as if accus- 
tomed to a keeper's call, bounded through valleys 
enameled with gorgeous flowers, and " cranes and 
herons of white, crimson, and carnation, dipped their 
long necks at the river's side." 

Invigorated by the contrast between this pictur- 
esque region, and the desolate one lately traversed, 
Raleigh and his companions wandered for miles, to 
acquaint themselves more minutely with the resour- 
ces of the country. They journeyed with little fa- 
tigue over the " faire, greene grasse," listening to the 
" birdes that, towards the evening, sang on every tree 
with a thousand severall tunes." They searched 
among the rocks for gold, and precious stones, dig- 
ging out marcasite, and mother-of-gold,^~and sap- 
phires, with the point of the dagger. So infatuated 
were these adventurers, that, as Raleigh himself says, 
" every stone that we stouped to take up, promised 
H 



170 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

either gold or silver by liis complexion." Witli equal 
credulity, tliey stored np the tales of the Indians con- 
cerning a tribe of men " whose heads appeared not 
above their shoulders." 

With little else than these Oriental fables and mock 
metals, the explorers reunited at the port of Morequito. 
Unable to penetrate farther into the country, and, 
fearful of being detained by the swelling rivers, they 
decided to return without delay to the sea-coast. Long 
days and nights of suffering, were the accompani- 
ments of their sea-ward voyage. The swift and dan- 
gerous currents, and the surging and boiling of the 
Orinoco, occasioned by the influx of flooded streams, 
rendered the safe passage of boats nearly impossible. 
The foaming rapids, often a mile in extent ; the thick 
vapor which continually hung above those cataracts, 
and concealed the shore, except where tall palms shot 
np their leafy tops ; the massive, iron-black rocks that 
towered up from the torrent, often crowned with 
trees, and oftener with gorgeous, diamond-sprayed 
flowers in clusters, or hanging in disheveled mats over 
the dark ledges — altogether, formed a scene of beau- 
ty and grandeur, in which the bc«ld pencil of a Turner 
might have reveled. 

After skillfully piloting their frail boats down this 
leviathan river, and narrowly escaping shipwreck at 
its mouth, during a storm, the exhausted crews safely 
reached Trinidad. They beheld, with tears and thanks- 
giving, their ships still anchored in the bay. Prepa- 
rations were immediately made to return to England. 



SEE WALTER RALEIGH. It I 

Tlie arrival of the fleet in England, occasioned 
miicli curiositj, as expectation was on tip-toe for 
wonderful revelations. Credulous as was the ajre, 
and prepared as the millions were, by Spanish adven- 
tures, for marvelous tales of the New World, no one 
would believe the assertions of Kaleigh and his com- 
pany. Possessed of unbounded credulity himself, 
Kaleigh gravely repeated the Indian accounts, and 
pictured Guiana in glowing colors. He published an 
account of his voyage, and entreated the queen to 
possess herself of an empire that exceeded every other 
on the globe, in population and riches. But, contra- 
ry to Raleigh's expectation, her majesty took no note 
whatever of his services. His absence and occupa- 
tion, so far from restoring him to her favor, had in- 
creased her coldness towards him. His numerous 
enemies, instead of forgetting him, as he had hoped, 
took advantage of his absence to influence Elizabeth 
strongly against him. 

Disappointed in his reception, he turned to the 
people for sympathy and \.ooperation in his plans. 
An enterprise, which had yet produced nothing but 
fables, called forth the derision of the j^opulace. Ra- 
leigh's reputation for veracity had never been honor- 
able, and what he now asserted had no weight what- 
ever. Some charged him with having lain hidden in 
England, during the whole voyage, and that his ac- 
count was a gross fabrication. Even historians re- 
corded it as an impudent imposture. Not the least 
credit was given him for his unequaled success in 



172 DISCOVERERS ANT) PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

penetrating a country peopled with hostile tribes, 
without sacrificing the life of a single Indian. Every 
other explorer of American forests, had drenched the 
soil with the blood of its rightful possessors. 
.. Kaleigh eloquently repelled the false charges show- 
ered from every quarter. He wrote that, though he 
had returned "beggared and withered," his remain- 
ing years were " bequeathed to Ralena," as he termed 
the region of the Orinoco. He was unwilling, how- 
ever, to accompany another expedition, without the 
countenance of the crown, for, said he, " It had sorted 
ill with the offices of honor, which, by her majesty's 
grace, I hold this day in England, to run from cape 
to cape, and place to place, for the pillage of ordina- 
ry prizes." His purpose had been to colonize Guiana. 
Foiled in that, he determined at least to maintain in- 
tercourse with the natives, and, if possible, yet dis- 
cover Mantoa. With the assistance of Sir Robert 
Cecil, and Howard, and by means from his private 
purse, he prepared and sent two ships, under Captain 
Keymis. The voyage occupied but a few months, 
and notliing essential was accomplished. 

During tlie year 1596, Raleigh was engaged, by 
royal appointment, in the expedition of Cadiz. Es- 
sex and the lord-high-admiral held the chief com- 
mand in the expedition, but a council of five was 
appointed, to keep them in harmony. Raleigh was 
one of the council. The fleet consisted of one hun- 
dred and fifty vessels. Favoring winds gave them a 
rapid run to the Spanish coast, and such had been the 



SIB WALTER RALEIGH. 173 

celerity of the wliole movement, and their success in 
intercepting every vessel which conld have conveyed 
the news, that they anchored in St. Sebastian's Bay, 
near Cadiz, before the Spaniards had scented the ap- 
proaching danger. 

An action, in which Raleigh bore a conspicuous 
part, soon commenced with the powerful Mexican 
and Spanish fleets, stationed in the harbor. The con- 
test was close and fierce. Ship after ship was sunk 
or blown up. Before night the Spaniards were signal- 
ly defeated. Their soldiers "tumbled into the sea like 
coals out of a sack." " The spectacle," says Raleigh, 
" was very lamentable on their side ; for many 
drowned themselves ; many, half-burnt, leaped into 
the water ; very many hanging by the ropes' ends, 
by the ships' sides, under the water to the very lips ; 
many swinging with grievous wounds, strucken un- 
der water, and put out of pain ; and withal, so huge 
a fire, and such tearing of the great ordnance, in the 
San Philip, and the rest, when the fire came to them, 
as, if any man had a desire to see hell itself, it was 
there most lively figured." 

Every Spanish ship in the harbor was destroyed, 
except two, captured by Raleigh. The army imme- 
diately landed, carried the city of Cadiz by a coup 
de main., and pillaged it. Though disabled by a 
wound during the day, Raleigh, after being carried 
ashore, mounted a horse, and entered the city with 
the rest, but extreme pain obliged him to return to 
his battered ship. 



174: DISCOVEREES AXD PI0NEEE3 OF AJSIEKICA. 

In fifteen days from their arrival, the army reem 
"barked, sacked the town of Faro, in Portugal, on their 
homeward sail, and laden with the riches of Cadiz, 
and the literary treasures of the famous library of 
Osorius, arrived at Plymouth the tenth of August. 

Essex hastened to rejDort the victory to the queen. 
Notwithstanding his generous nature, he felt hurt at 
the glory his inferior in command, and early rival, 
had obtained. Yet it was impossible to withhold 
from Paleigh the credit of having secured victory, by 
his timely interference with an absurd design, pro- 
posed by the lord-high-admiral. He planned the ac- 
tion, and skillfully directed its execution. This dis- 
play of his ability and gallantry, restored him to 
public esteem. His courteous conduct towards his 
enemy, Essex, who had been the means of his con- 
tinued expulsion from court, also elicited the ad- 
miration of his associate officers, during the expedi- 
tion. The frank and fearless Essex, however, too 
readily perceived the cunning motives of Raleigh, to 
be cajoled into friendship. 

During their absence. Sir Bobert Cecil had been 
appointed secretary of state. He was the malignant 
enemy of Essex, and the friend of Raleigh — a man, 
however, whose enmity was less dangerous than his 
fi'iendship. Ambitious, intriguing, sarcastic, cold, 
and subtle, he never hesitated to sacrifice a friend to 
his own interest. He at length boldly crushed the 
noble Essex in his serpent coils ; — for Raleigh, he 
reserved a fatal charm, like that which attracts the 



SIR WALTEK EALEIGH. 175 

unwary bird, in narrowing circles, till it falls a help- 
less victim before the cold, glistening eye of its en- 
chanter. 

To effect a reconciliation between these two power- 
ful rivals, and thus secure his own restoration at court, 
was an apparently impossible scheme, yet one to 
which Kaleigh devoted himself on his return from 
Spain. Contrary to the expectations of the gossiping 
public, and even the parties themselves, he succeeded. 
This skillful stroke did for him what his brilliant ex- 
ploits at Cadiz had failed to accomplish. He was at 
once restored to Elizabeth's confidence ; was reinsta- 
ted captain of her guard, and went boldly to the 
privy-chamber, as of old. 

His attention was now absorbed in a second expe- 
dition to Spain, to thwart Philip's design of invading 
both England and Ireland, in revenge for the Cadiz 
triumph. A secondary plan occupied his leisure. 
This was the execution of a third voyage to Guiana, 
intrusted to Captain Berrie. The voyage occupied 
little more than six months, and produced nothing 
remarkable. 

Tlie chief command of the Spanish expedition was 
conferred upon the Earl of Essex. Lord Thomas 
Howard was appointed vice-admiral, and Sir Walter 
Raleigh rear-admiral. The fleet, consisting of one 
hundred and twenty sail, left Plymouth the eighteenth 
of August. The Azore Islands was its destination, as 
intelligence had been received, that the Spanish Ar- 
mada was stationed there, to protect the rich Indian 



176 DISCOVEKERS AiiD PIONELiltS OF AMERTOA. 

fleet, daily expected. Upon arriving at the island of 
Flores, however, thej discovered the rumor to be 
false, and, mortified at having been duped, immedi- 
ately decided upon taking possession of the islands. 
A division of attack was made — Fayal being re- 
served for Essex and Raleigh. Essex accordingly 
set sail, and left orders for the rear-admiral to follow 
him. Raleigh obeyed, but, not speedily coming in 
sight of his commander's squadron, steered with his 
own fleet for Fayal, by the shortest course. Upon 
arriving there the next morning, he could nowhere 
perceive Essex. 

The enemy were busy fortifying the coast and town. 
Every hour gave them superior advantage. Raleigh 
awaited the arrival of the leader as long as his pa- 
tience could brook the delay, and then decided upon 
an immediate attack. With two hundred and sixty 
men, he effected a landing, amidst a storm of bullets ; 
clambered up the rocks, carried the fortifications, and 
put the Spaniards to flight. Two batteries, one com- 
manding the road, the other the town, were to be re- 
connoitred. The foreign troops, in his service, were 
unwilling to pass thus before the cannon's mouth. 
Impatient at their hesitation, he called for his casque 
and cuirass, and himself, with an oflacer and a few 
soldiers, rode uj) to the town, and made the necessary 
observations. Stones and cannon-shot greeted them 
effectively, for the accompanying officer was wound- 
ed, two soldiers lost their heads, and the admiral's 
clothes were repeatedly torn with the shot. 



SIR WALTER EALEIGH, 177 

Upon ordering up his forces, the fort was taken at 
the first onset. The Spaniards abandoned it without 
a shot in its defence. The town was also deserted, 
and immediately occupied by the English ; thus, be- 
fore night, Raleigh found himself in possession of the 
whole island. 

The next morning, Essex anchored in the harbor, 
and, to his great surprise and anger, found his rival 
enjoying the honors he had in store for himself. 
With his usual impetuosity, he ordered the arrest of 
every officer engaged in the affair, and arraigned Ra- 
leigh for violating the instructions, that none should 
land the troops without the general's presence. The 
admiral vindicated himself, and, with dignity and 
calmness, assured the jealous earl that the restric- 
tions applied only to captains and inferior officers, 
while he was a principal commander. Essex was 
pacified, but his dependents, who had studiously rep- 
resented Raleigh's conduct as an insolent contempt 
of his superior command, were greatly chagrined at 
the failure of this occurrence, to create dissension be- 
tween the newly-reconciled rivals. 

The remainder of the expedition was a succession 
of failures. Essex, better qualified for a statesman 
and soldier than the commander-in-chief of a naval 
armament, lost his opportunity to capture the Spanish 
fleet, and, instead, occupied himself with various in- 
significant exploits. The anger of the queen was 
vented in severe reproaches ujjon Essex. Raleigh 
was highly commended, but no honors were bestowed 
H* 12 



ITS DISCOYEEEES AKD TIOXEEES OF AINIEEICA. 

lipon him, as Tipon Essex, soon after. He immedi- 
ately retired to Sherbourne — a country-seat wliicli he 
had embellished with the greatest care. He here 
spent the happiest hom's of his life, in the society of 
his elegant and devoted wife, together with the dis- 
tinguished literati of that reign, who frequented his 
attractive country-seat. His retirement was varied 
by occasional attendance at court. His influence 
was greater, and he was more distinguished by royal 
favor, at this time, than at any previous period. He 
figured consj)icuously in the masques, tournaments, 
pageants, and martial games, which formed a large 
part of the entertainments of Elizabeth's stately court. 
Sir Walter vied with Essex and other courtiers in the 
magnificence of his dress. Jewels blazed upon his 
shoes, sword, and belt ; a fortune was expended in 
the dazzling display. 

Notwithstanding a slight lameness and deformity, 
which he first suffered during his Guiana voyage, he 
outshone the accomplished Essex. His appearance 
in the tilt-yard, on one occasion of the queen's birth- 
day, caused a renewal of their old hostility. Ra- 
leigh's superior skill in the use of -weapons, and his 
splendid attire and retinue, threw his rival in the 
shade. He carried off the victory, in presence of the 
assembled court, augmented in brilliancy by the 
royal presence, and the accompanying train of fair 
attendants. Essex burned with jealousy and vexa- 
tion. Like a spoiled child, he fretted himself into an 
undeserved severity of punishment, while the crafty 



BIB WALTEE EALEIGH. 179 

Cecil and the deceptive Raleigh provided the rods, 
which her majesty applied, before she discovered they 
were thickly set with thorns. 

At their instigation, the government of Ireland was 
given to Essex — an appointment which he had de- 
manded for a friend. The stern refusal of his request 
occasioned that extraordinary and undignified scene, 
in which Essex lost all command of his fiery temper, 
and received a box on the ear, in token of the queen's 
exhausted patience. To rid herself of his insolence, 
and to afford him an honorable exile from her pres- 
ence, Elizabeth obliged him, at the suggestion of his 
enemies, to accept the appointment lie had eagerly 
claimed for another. He concealed his chagrin at 
this imdesired honor, and received with haughty 
pride, the mocking congratulations of Raleigh and 
Cecil. As they anticipated, his ruin quickly follow- 
ed. Thus Raleigh paved the way for his own fall. 
He was enough of a political gamester, to perceive 
that the removal of the formidable favorite left a new 
rivalry between himself and Cecil, and that they 
could not long stand together, under a mask of friend- 
ship which circumstances had enforced. He relied 
upon his own ability to extricate himself, but, skilled 
as he was in duplicity, he was no match for his cun- 
ning rival, who, Jesuit-like, purred about his victim, 
till his deep-laid and far-reaching schemes were per- 
fected. 

Lulled into temporary security, by the helping 
hand Cecil lent to his promotion, Raleigh enjoyed 



180 DISCOVEiiEKS AJ^D PI0J^fEKI^3 OF AMEEICA. 

the royal favor with greater distinction tlian ever. 
The government of Jersey was bestowed upon him ; 
he was commissioned with secret embassies, and at- 
tended the qneen upon her freqnent and costly excur- 
sions, from one palace to another. He also sat in 
Parliament, where his eloquent speeches, his liberal 
views, and his generous acquiescence in the repeal 
of monopolies, though against his own interest, did 
more for his lasting fame, than any of his previous 
exertions, and imparted to his reputation an honor 
and dignity, which had too often been found wanting 
in his earlier career. 

He, at this time, disposed of his estates in Ireland, 
which drew too heavily upon his purse. The im- 
provement of those estates had not been rapid, owing 
to his absence. He founded a free school, however, 
in one of his townships. Ireland is also indebted to 
him for the introduction of the potato, from Virginia.* 
The first of that now most important product was 
planted at Youghal, a seaport at the mouth of the 
Blackwater, which is still embellished by the house 
and gardens of Kaleigh. Evidence of his fondness 
for rural elegance, remains in the rare and perfumed 
shrubs that yet ornament the gardens. The flower- 

* It is said that Sir Walter Raleigh -was the first discoverer of the 
value of the potato as a food for man. One day he ordered a quan- 
tity of dry weeds to be collected and burnt. Among them were 
some dried potatoes. After the bon-fire, these potatoes were picked 
up, thoroughly roasted. Sir Walter tasted, and pronounced them 
delicious. By this accident was discovered a species of food, which 
has saved millions of the human race from starvation. 



Sm WALTER KALEIGH. 181 

ing arbutus, and the fragrant myrtle are still conspic- 
uous there, the latter elegant species having obtained 
the rare lieight of twenty feet. 

The death of Queen Elizabeth was an event which 
suddenly deprived Raleigh of all the emoluments he 
had enjoyed. It was one for which he had made no 
provision. His enemies, on the contrary, had antici- 
pated the stroke, and had taken care that it should 
fall heavily on him. 

James, the successor of Elizabeth, was incapable 
of appreciating the genius of Raleigh. Vain, con- 
ceited, superficial, and pedantic in his learning; jeal- 
ous and suspicious in temperament, and narrow, tim- 
id, and inactive in policy, he inspired a contempt in 
Raleigh, which that courtier made no attemi^t to con- 
ceal. Sir Walter's fondness for enterprise and dis- 
covery, and his love of national glory, were complete- 
ly at variance with the notions of the monarch. 
Before his succession, James had been deeply preju- 
diced against Raleigh, as one of the actors in the 
Essex tragedy. Cecil, though far more censurable, 
contrived to establish a secret correspondence with 
King James, cunningly acquiesced in his sentiments, 
and insinuated himself so far in his good graces, and 
60 completely gained over his favorites, that when 
that monarch occupied the English throne, he retain- 
ed Cecil as secretary of state, to the utter surprise of 
political prophets. The secretary had been careful 
to inspire James with a dislike for Raleigh, and, ac- 
cordingly, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing his 



182 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

rival deprived of liis post as captain of the guard, his 
lucrative wine-patent withdrawn, and his movements 
regarded with coldness and distrust. Kaleigh's eyes 
were suddenly opened to the treachery of his mock- 
friend, and from that moment they were in open 
hostility. 

Three months of the new sovereignty had scarcely 
passed, when Raleigh was arrested for treason. Of 
the grounds of this procedure, he was entirely igno- 
rant, till he found himself accused of traitorous nego- 
tiations with Spain, and of a design of subverting the 
government, and placing Arabella Stuart upon the 
throne. The first charge was too inconsistent with 
his well-known hatred for Spain, to have much weight. 
The third was so entirely unfounded, that even his 
enemies were too ashamed to prosecute it. The sec- 
ond, however, managed by the artful Cecil, assumed 
a more serious aspect. 

Lord Cobham. the brother-in-law of Cecil, had be- 
come involved in a charge of treason, with his brother, 
Mr. Brooks, and several popish priests. Being a 
friend of Raleigh, and having often conversed with 
him, in discontented terms, respecting the govern- 
ment, suspicion fell upon Sir Walter as being an ac- 
complice in the conspiracy. Lord Cobham's charac- 
ter is described as " a compound of fear, weakness, 
and falsehood." He was completely the tool of Ce- 
cil, and, as such, was instigated to accuse his friend 
of being an associate conspirator, in presence of the 
council. He had scarcely uttered the charge, when 



Sm WALTER RALEIGH. 183 

lie was overpowered with remorse, at his own viHain- 
ous conduct towards his friend, and retracted the 
whole accusation. The council would not accept his 
retraction. Why he should have uttered the mon- 
strous falsehood, and thus virtually plead guilty him- 
self, when the real culprits declared, at their execu- 
tion, that he was not privy to their plans, is most un- 
accountable, unless his conscious discontent, his 
weakness, and the carefully worded threats of the 
secretary, be considered. 

Sir "Walter's trial was a series of cruel and unjust 
absurdities, sustained by able and skillful enemies. 
Sir Edward Coke exhausted his ingenuity in invent- 
ing epithets sufficiently detestable to apply to him. 
He magnified and misrepresented the most trifling 
circumstances ; he prejudiced the minds of the jury ; 
and what was found wanting in evidence, he made 
up by abuse. "Viperous traitor," was an ej)ithet 
that accompanied almost every interrogation. Coke, 
in fact, was so filled with the venom of anger and 
hatred, that, regardless of the fatal efiects, he lost no 
opportunity to dart a viper's sting at the prisoner. 

Raleigh endured his invectives with surprising 
calmness. He defended himself nobly and eloquent- 
ly, and, says one who was present at the trial, " with 
that temper, wit, learning, courage, and judgment, 
that, save it went with the hazard of his life, it was 
the happiest day he ever spent." 

The last piece of evidence adduced in Raleigh's favor, 
was a letter from Lord Cobham, written while con- 



L84 DISCO^'^EREES AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

fined in the Tower, and wliicli most solemnly protested 
Raleigh's innocence. It was allowed no weight, how- 
ever, and Raleigh's only hope of acquittal in being 
confronted with Cobham, was peremptorily refused. 
"If his presence could liave injured Raleigh, he would 
have been brought over from Constantinople," as the 
monarch owned. 

Prince Henry, James' eldest son — of most promising 
talent, and whose noble and upright mind perceived 
the tyranny of his father, the smooth-tongued hypoc- 
risy of Cecil, and the baseness of Coke — strongly cen- 
sured the proceedings, and endeavored to soften the 
rigor of the sentence which was pronounced upon 
Raleigh. Yet it was not averted ; the details of his 
execution were pronounced with the most tormenting 
minuteness. 

The evident innocence of the condemned, his com- 
posed and forbearing demeanor, in striking contrast 
with his judges ; the eloquence, wit, and ability with 
which he had defended himself, operated powerfully 
upon the spectators, who crowded the court with in- 
tense interest. Nearly all had come filled with ha- 
tred towards the proclaimed traitor, rejoicing to see 
his proud head bowed at last. They " would have 
gone a thousand miles to see him hanged," vet, when 
they beheld him, when they listened to him, when 
they detected the extent of injustice lie sufiered, their 
overflowing feelings were changed from " extremest 
hate to extremest pity," and they would now have 
" gone a thousand miles to save his life." 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 185 

He was conducted back to prison, to await the ex- 
ecution of liis sentence, which he looked for daily in 
a state of painful suspense, during a whole month. 
He made an appeal to the king for mercy, but it re- 
ceived no attention. He then wrote a touching fare- 
well letter to his wife, in which is depicted a strong 
and tender afi'ection, a heroic spirit, and an acknowl- 
edgment of the providences of God, and the rich com- 
fort of reliance upon the Almighty, altogether unex- 
pected in one whose life had hitherto evinced little 
practical piety. His beautiful message of love speaks 
for itself : 

" You shall now receive, my dear wife, my last 
words, in these my last lines. My love I send you, 
that you may keep it when I am dead ; and my 
counsel, that you may remember it when I am no 
more. I would not, by my will, present you with 
sorrows, dear Bess, — let them go into the grave with 
me, and be buried in the dust. And seeing that it is 
not the will of God that ever I shall see you more in 
this life, bear it patiently, and with a heart like 
thyself. 

" First, I send you all the thanks my heart can 
conceive, or my words can express for your many 
travails and care taken for me ; which, though they 
have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to 
you is not the less. But pay it I never shall in this 
world. Secondly, I beseech you for the love you 
bear me living, do not hide yourself many days after 



186 DISCOVERERS AND TIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

my death ; but by your travail seek to help your mis- 
erable fortunes, and the right of your j^oor child. 
Thy mournings cannot avail me, — I am but dust. . 
. . If you can live free from want, care for no 
more ; the rest is but vanity. Love God, and begin 
betimes to repose yourself on him ; and therein you 
shall lind true and lasting riches, and endless com- 
fort. For the rest, when you have travailed and 
wearied your thought'? over all sorts of worldly cogi- 
tations, you shall but sit down by sorrow in the end. 
Teach your son, also, to love and fear God while he 
is yet young, that the fear of God may grow up with 
him, and then God will be a husband to you and a 
father to him. . . When I am gone, no doubt you 
will be sought by many, for the world thinks I was 
very rich. But take heed of the pretenses of men, 
and their affections. ... I speak not tliis, God 
knows, to dissuade from marriage ; for it will be best 
for you, both in respect of the world and of God. As 
for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine. Death 
has cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from 
the world, and you from me. Remember your poor 
child for his father's sake, who chose and loved you 
in his happiest time. . . . The everlasting, jdow- 
erfnl, infinite, and omnipotent God, who is goodness 
itself, the true life and light, keep thee and thine, liave 
mercy on me, and teach me to forgive my persecu- 
tors and accusers, and send us to meet in his glorious 
kingdom. Mj' dear wife, farewell ! Bless my poor 
boy ; pray for me, and let my good God hold you 



SIR WALTER EALEIGH. 187 

both in his arms. "Written with the dying hand of 
Bome time thy husband, but now, alas ! overthrown. 
Yours that was, but now not my own, — 

" Walter Raleigh." 

This manly and affecting letter was wi'itten while 
he momentarily expected a summons to the scaffold. 
Three weeks had passed in a torturing state of sus- 
pense, when he beheld, one morning, from the win- 
dow of his prison, a most singular and fearful farce 
enacted. A tumultuous crowd was assembled about 
a newly erected scaffold. The executioner, the offi- 
cers of the law, the priest, and the friends of the 
prisoners, whose trial and condemnation had followed* 
that of Raleigh, occupied the stage. He watched the 
approach of the first sufferer, beheld his final devo- 
tions, and, with a sickened feeling, at the remem- 
brance of a like fate for himself, saw him lay his head 
upon the block, and the ponderous axe ready to de- 
scend, "i et it did not fall. The prisoner arose and 
stood like a statue, while an officer addressed him. 
He was then led away amidst shouts and acclama- 
tions that rolled noisily to the distant cell of Ra- 
leigh, who, dumb with wonder, gazed upon the 
strange pantomime, till the three convicted noblemen, 
Cobham, Grey and Markham, were successively 
brought to the verge of eternity, were made to suffer 
the agony of an expected and dreaded death, and 
then thrust back to their gloomy, solitary cells. 

Raleigh divined its meaning, felt a new and stirring 



188 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

hope that his own innocence should yet be acknow- 
ledged, and he should again be nnited to those for 
whose sake he coveted life. But he soon learned tliat 
he was to be consigned to a living death. The mercy 
of the king granted life, but condemned him to im- 
prisonment in the Tower, for such a term of years as 
should suit the royal pleasure. 

Lady Kaleigh had not looked on inactively during 
her husband's trial. She had put forth every possi- 
ble exertion to save him, and only yielded herself to 
inconsolable grief when all hope was extinguished. 
At Sherbourne, the home that was crowded with as- 
sociations of the early years of their marriage, and 
■ of later days, of perfect harmony and love, Lady Ra- 
leigh had awaited the tidings she believed inevitable. 
When, at last, a messenger arrived, full of the ex- 
citement that prevailed wherever the news had sped, 
her sharp and tearless agony yielded to grateful tears. 
The damp, gloomy cell, the unvaried and weary life 
to be passed within its narrow confines, the bolts, 
locks, bars, and impregnable walls, reminding one 
every moment of a hard fate, had scarcely a place in 
her thoughts. It was enough for her to know he 
lived. She had now but one wish, and that was to 
share, with her only son, the imprisonment of Sir 
Walter ; to cheer, console, and lighten, the tedious- 
ness of his unoccupied life. 

With no anxiety but the fear of a refusal, she has- 
tened to court, and seeking the presence of the mon- 
arch, threw herself at his feet, and entreated him to 



SIE WALTEK EALEIGH. 189 

grant the only happiness that remained for her. Jame9 
acquiesced, probably with no little wonder at the he- 
roic devotion which his selfish nature found difficult 
to comiDrehend. Unlike most of the high-born la- 
dies, who enjoyed the elevated position which had 
been hers, Lady Raleigh seldom mingled in the dis- 
sipated pleasures of court, life. She had presided at 
Sherbourne with dignity and grace, and found her 
greatest happiness at her own fireside — a choice 
which accounts for the faithfulness, and strength of 
attachment that existed between Sir Walter and his 
devoted wife ; for a harmonious and deep aflfection 
can no more outlive a constant participation in the 
heartless gayeties of fashionable life, than a rare and 
rich flower can long exist in the midst of an over 
growth of poisonous weeds. 

It was no sacrifice for Lady Kaleigh to leave the 
outer world, so long as it obtained for her the joy of 
alleviating her husband's trials. With a cheerful 
countenance, that still retained much of the beauty 
of her youth, she brought sunshine into the cold dun- 
geon. Her woman's refinement and ingenuity de- 
vised small means of comfort, that brought a home- 
look even to the doleful cells of the Tower. Consoled 
by the presence of his wife and young son, Raleigh 
diverted his thoughts from his own misfortunes by 
pursuing the studies, which, from his youth, had oc- 
cupied his leisure. His extensive travels and close 
observation, had stored up a large fund for his pres- 



190 DISCOVERKRS AISTD PTON-RERS OF AMERICA. 

ent use, and be now reaped the benefit of tbe vigo- 
rous cultivation of bis intellect. He accomplisbed a 
work wbicb would bave intimidated tbe most learned, 
in tbe midst of libraries and accessible manuscripts. 
Witli few materials, aside from bis own valuable ex- 
perience, and tborougb reading, be wrote a History 
of tbe World, — a ponderous work, spoken of by Tytler 
as an " extraordinary monument of buraan labor and^ 
genius, wbicb, in tbe vastness of its subject, its re- 
searcli and learning, tbe wisdom of its political reflec- 
tions, and tbe beauties of its style, bas not been 
equaled by any writer of tbis, or perbajDS of any 
otber country." 

Aside from tbis, Ealeigb frequently wrote letters, 
essays and discourses, upon tbe arts, science or poli- 
tics, in wbicb, tbougb a state prisoner, bis judgment 
and wisdom was consulted. Prince Henry enter- 
tained a strong sympathy and admiration for tbe un- 
fortunate nobleman. He often visited bim, corres- 
ponded witb bim, and courted bis instructions in tbe 
civil, military, and naval affairs tbat occupied bis 
practical as well as accomplisbed mind. He is said 
to have made tbe observation, tbat " none but his 
father would have kept such a bird in a cage." 

Hariot, tbe distinguished mathematician and natu- 
ralist, whom Kaleigb bad once sent to ascertain tbe 
extent and productions of Virginia, was often admit- 
ted to his presence. He, together with Hughes and 
Warner, two accomplished scholars, had frequently 



Sm WALTER RALEIGH. 191 

assisted him in making chemical experiments, and 
astronomical calculations. Their devotion to their 
captive patron, obtained for them the soubriquet of 
his Three Magi. They must have furnished the val- 
uable laboratory which Raleigh established in the 
small garden of the Tower. He converted an old 
house to the purpose, and, as was said by Sir William 
Wade, the Lieutenant of the Tower, he there " spent 
all the day in distillations." 

There were several prisoners of rank and genius 
confined in the Tower at this time, who were occa- 
sionally permitted each other's society. The Earl of 
Northumberland established a literary society in his 
apartments, and the companionship of Piercy, " a 
mathematician, a chemist, an astrologer, and a hu- 
morist," and that of Hoskins, the poet, served to give 
wings to the tedious hours of imprisonment. Raleigh 
himself, courted the muses. His quaint, but beauti- 
ful strains evince a depth of piety, which he proba- 
bly never could have experienced had his prosperity 
continued. Austere judges may doubt his sincerity, 
but his uncomplaining forgiveness towards his most 
bitter enemies, his Christian calmness, so unlike his 
former impetuosity, and the fervor and submissive- 
ness to God's will, expressed in his writings, seem ut- 
terly incompatible with what we should look for in a 
cold philosopher, or a hypocrite. Misanthropy, im- 
patience, and bitterness of spirit, might, more natu- 
rally, result from the twelve years' imprisonment of a 



192 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

formal moralist, than the heavenly aspirations breathed 
in such hymns as the following : — 

" Rise, my soul, ■with thy desires to Heaven, 

And with divinest contemplation use 
Thy time, -where time's eternity is given, 

And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse; 
But down in darkness let them lie ; 
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die. 

" To thee, Jesu ! I direct my eyes. 

To thee my hands, to thee my humble knee% 

To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice. 

To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees : 

To thee myself, myself and all I give, 

To thee I die, to thee I only live I " 

Seven years of imprisonment had dragged out 
their weary length, when a new and unexpected blow 
struck deeply at the happiness which, the isolated 
family promised themselves, was yet in store for 
them. As if it was not enough to cage the eagle, 
unsatiated enemies began to pluck the choicest feath- 
ers from his wings to plume their own greatness. 
Sherbourne, the gift of Elizabeth, the home he prized 
above all the palaces of England, where he had en- 
joyed so many years of unalloyed domestic happi- 
ness, and which he had embellished with studied care 
and taste, was a prize that did not escape the cove- 
tous eye of James' new favorite, the notorious and 
unprincipled Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset. Raleigh 
had taken especial care to settle this favorite estate 
upon his eldest son. The scrutiny of malignant ene- 



SIR WALTEK llALEiGH. llo 

mies, however, discovered the omission of a few triv- 
ial words in the deed of conveyance, and, taking ad- 
vantage of this legal flaw, solicited the estate from 
the king. Nothing was denied to Carr, and James 
had not yet forgiven Raleigh. The news of the pro- 
bable forfeiture of Sherbourne, was conveyed to Sir 
Walter by some sympathizing friend. What to do, to 
avert the calamity, was a question of painful interest 
to the little family, to whom the addition of a second 
son rendered the preservation of the remaining por- 
tion of his spoiled fortune all the more necessary. 
Above all, to lose the dearest home they possessed, 
was a misfortune that weighed more heavily upon 
their depressed spirits, than any other his active ene- 
mies could have devised. 

Prince Henry interceded for the family, in whom 
he had become most deeply interested. But the in- 
fluence of the rapacious Carr, over the weak mon- 
arch, outweighed that of his own high-minded son. 
Grieved at her husband's dejection, when this hope 
failed. Lady Raleigh proposed to plead with the king, 
herself. This seemed a happy thought, for, aside 
from the justness of her petition, who could resist the 
eloquent appeal of her wan, sorrowful face, paled to 
marble whiteness, by her long, voluntary imprison- 
ment ? Encouraged by Prince Henry, and accom- 
panied by her two youthful sons, she repaired to the 
palace, and was admitted to the presence of her sover- 
eign. Seven years had come and gone, since she last 
knelt at the feet of James. Her name, and her beau- 
I 13 



ll'4 inSOOVKUKUS AND PIONKKKS OF A:\tKRIC.\. 

tiful devotion had long ago been forgotten by the gay 
conrtiers who snrronnded liini. New favorites wlio 
had heard her history, as a romanee of the past, were 
startled at her sndden apparition in their very midst. 
Curions eyes marked the traces of beauty, still evi- 
dent in her face, though full of long-endured sorrow. 
The presence of her children was a touching appeal. 
White as statues, and bewildered at the strange scene 
of costly decorations, of imposing royalty and cheer- 
ful faces, — so widely different from the cold, dark walls, 
and the pale, solenm faces, they Avere used to behold, — 
they clung, frightened and trembling, to their plead- 
ing mother. The heart of any, but that of the selfish 
James, would have yielded to the eloquent entreaties, 
and the faithful efforts of this noble wife and moth- 
er, who asked a simple act of justice. But, instead 
of granting the tearful request, he coldly shook his 
head, and replied impatiently, — 

" I maun have the land — I maun have it for 
Carr." 

Almost overcome with powerful emotions, and sick 
at heart. Lady Raleigh slowly turned away from the 
palace and court, gay with the revelry of Queen 
Anne's suite. The lumting parties, the masquerades 
and operatic plays, in which the queen did not dis- 
dain to act a part, seemed more heartless and trivial 
than ever, in contrast with her own dark life, her 
sombre home, and the beggarly pittance of sympathy 
those in power bestowed upon her injured husband. 
The ponderous gates and dooi*s of the Tower closed 



SIE WALTER EALEIGH. 195 

upon her. The slow weight of her step, as she re- 
turned to Sir Walter, and that eloquent silence which 

" Whispers the o'er-fraught heart," 

told him, plainer than words, of disappointment. He 
had need of fortitude to endure his reverses, for three 
other valued estates soon followed Sherbourne. His 
hopes of an eventual release from the Tower, were 
also, soon after, cut o^ by the deatli of his only re- 
maining, influential friend, Prince Henry. lie deep- 
ly felt the loss. 

In time, however, events assumed a shape more fa- 
vorable to his release. Death and reverses had been 
busy with his enemies, as well as with his friends. 
Cobham had, long before, sufi'ered poverty and obscu- 
rity, and finally died in a poor hovel, attended only 
by his former laundress. Cecil's life of duplicity had 
been cut off by a painful disease. His successor in 
office, Sir Kalph Winwood, was a plain, honest, intel- 
ligent man, and from him Raleigh reasonably hoped 
much. Somerset, the villianous favorite, had stained 
his hands in blood, and, with his guilty countess, was 
disgraced. His place was filled by Villiers, Duke of 
Buckingham, who interested himself in the fate of 
the long imprisoned hero. Queen Anne was, also, 
favorably disposed towards Raleigh, probably from 
the remembered friendship of the deceased Prince, 
whose loss she did not cease to lament. 

Raleigh addressed a petition to the queen, urging 
her interposition in his behalf, and proposed, in case 



196 DISCOVERERS AND PIONKEIIS OF AJIEKICA. 

of liberation, to renew his attempts tj colonize and 
explore Guiana — a scheme which he still enthusias- 
tically cherished. Winwood, the secretary of state, 
recommended the proposition to the king. Success 
attended the efforts of these new and powerful 
friends, and, early in March, 1615, after twelve years 
of enforced solitude, he emerged with his wife and 
sons, from the doleful confines of the Tower, to the 
breathing, hurrying world. 

Yigor, energy and activity, again animated him. 
Though in his sixty-fifth year, he began preparations 
for the proposed voyage, with as much enthusiasm 
and ambition as if he was but a youth, tossing, for 
the first time, his hook and line into the sea of life. 
To obtain funds for the undertaking, Lady Raleigh 
disposed of her estate of Micham. A sum of money 
was, also, given him by the king, as " a competent 
satisfaction " for the loss of Sherbourne, though it 
was but little more than the yearly income he had 
derived from that estate. Many merchants and pri- 
vate adventurers took a share in the exj^edition. The 
fleet sailed on the 28th of March, 1617. It is in- 
teresting to know that, first among the orders given 
to the several commanders of the fleet, were the fol- 
lowing : " First, because no action or enteryrise can 
prosper (be it by sea or land) without the favor and 
assistance of Almighty God, the Lord and strength 
of hosts and armies, you shall not fail to cause divine 
service to be read in your ship, morning and evening 

. . . praising God every night, with singing of 



SIR WALTER KALEIGH. 197 

a psalm at tlie setting of the watch. Secondly, you 
shall take especial care that God be not blasphemed 
in your ship, . . . for if it be threatened in the 
Scriptures, that ' the curse shall not depart from the 
house of the swearer,' much less from the ship of the 
swearer." 

E-aleigh was kindly and gladly welcomed by the 
Indians to the ITew World. His sanguine hopes of 
success were dampened, soon after his arrival, upon 
learning that the Spaniards had been apprised of his 
coming. Influenced by the jealousy with which 
Spain regarded the movement, they watched his pro- 
gress with hatred and suspicion. Raleigh, being 
confined to his berth by illness, dispatched Captain 
Keymis, with five ships, to proceed up the Orinoco, 
to the gold mine, which he was confident existed 
there, and retained the other vessels for defence 
against a Spanish fleet, sent to reconnoitre his move- 
ments. 

His arrangements betrayed an expectation of a col- 
lision with the Spaniards, notwithstanding the strict 
instructions given by his sovereign, to preserve the 
treaty which had been lately consummated between 
England and Spain. 

The Spaniards, however, offered the first provoca- 
tion, and struck the first blow. Keymis was attacked 
and repulsed at Santa Thome, in the vicinity of the 
mine. Young Walter Ealeigh, the eldest son of the 
earl, fell in the contest. This bereavement, added to 
the violation of the treaty, and the failure of Keymis 



198 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

to prove, by obtaining gold, that the enterprise was 
neither illusory nor hostile to the Spaniards, occa- 
sioned Ealeigh the most poignant grief. In a letter 
to his afflicted wife, he said — "I never knew what 
sorrow meant till now." Keymis was so troubled at 
the apparent culpability of his conduct, and the fatal 
consequences to Raleigh, that he retired to his cabin, 
and put an end to his existence. 

Heart-broken and disappointed, Sir Walter sailed 
for England. He determined to cast himself upon 
the mercy and justice of the king, whom he hoped 
to convince of his own innocency, and accordingly 
resisted the urgent entreaties of his friends, to seek 
refuge on the continent. He remembered, too, his 
pledge of honor to return to England, demanded from 
him, because his full pardon for alleged treason had 
never been granted. He was immediately arrested 
on his arrival in England, at the instigation of the 
Spanish ambassador — a proud, cruel, Castilian count, 
of a dark and powerful character. When an exag- 
gerated report of the action in Guiana, reached the 
malicious count, he demanded an interview with the 
king, and, upon being admitted, frantically cried out, 
with Jesuitical effect, " Pirates ! pirates ! pirates ! " 
and without another word, strode angrily from the 
apartment. 

James dreaded nothing more than a rupture with 
Spain. His fears thus worked upon, and actuated by 
his dislike to Raleigh, he disregarded the intercession 
of the queen and others, who plead for him ; and 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 199 

promised King Philip that this formidable foe to 
Spain should die. Sir Lewis Stiickelj, a kinsman of 
Sir Walter's, was commissioned with the arrest, and, 
bj the promise of a large reward, was instigated to 
deceive and induce his unsuspecting prisoner to es- 
cape, and then basely betray him. For a week, Ka- 
leigh was allowed the society of his deeply aiflicted 
wife. During that time, he feigned sickness, to pre- 
vent his immediate committal to the Tower, and to 
gain time to write an appeal and vindication to the 
king. 

Lady Raleigh was not permitted to accompany 
him in his last imprisonment. He was deprived of 
the society and comforts formerly granted him ; was 
placed in a " high and safe apartment, and confined 
to the keeping and espionage of Sir Thomas Wilson. 
His own servant was dismissed, and the place sup- 
plied by a man of Wilson's selection, who assisted 
the keeper in his mean surveillance. Either one or 
the other of these persons constantly remained in 
Raleigh's presence. Wilson cunningly questioned 
him, and sought every means to elicit some confes- 
sions that would prove him guilty. Their conversa- 
tions were carefully noted down, and transmitted to 
the monarch, who was anxious to find some plausible 
pretext for getting rid of his troublesome subject. 
Lady Raleigh was encouraged to correspond with her 
husband; but every letter, and every reply, was in- 
tercepted by the keeper's servant, and conveyed to 



200 DISC0VEEEE8 ATSID PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

the king, for perusal, before being delivered to its 
proper recipient. 

These means failed to convict Raleigh of wrong. 
The arrival of instructions from Spain, to have him 
executed without delay, placed James in an uneasy 
dilemma. Raleigh's death had been promised to 
Philip, yet it could not be accomplished without some 
evidence of guilt. He consulted his council, and fi- 
nally appointed commissioners to interrogate Raleigh, 
and to report upon the best mode of proceeding 
against him. They decided that he could not be 
called to account for crimes committed after his sen- 
tence for treason ; it was necessary, therefore, to have 
recourse to the death-warrant issued fifteen years be- 
fore, although it had been virtually annulled by his 
subsequent appointment as general-in-chief of the 
Guiana fleet. This course had scarcely been decided 
upon, after a tedious discussion by the perplexed coun- 
cil, when a new difiiculty arose. " They declared 
that neither a writ of privy-seal, nor even a warrant 
under the great seal, to the judges of the king's 
bench, could entitle them, after so long an interval, 
to pronounce sentence of execution against any pris- 
oner, without giving him an opportunity of pleading 
in person against it. 

James was not willing to lose his victim by such 
an opportunity of acquittal, for he had once acknowl- 
edged the injustice of Raleigh's trial, by saying he 
would not risk his head with a Winchester jury, such 



SER WALTER KALEIGH. 201 

as had found Sir Walter guilty. To avoid these dif- 
ficulties, it was at last decided -to arraign him by a 
writ of Tialjeas corpus. The king acquiesced and sign- 
ed a warrant for execution. 

Four days afterwards, the condemned man, sick, 
weak, and with the chill of an ague fit upon him, was 
brought before the assembled court, to answer the 
demand "why execution should not pass against 
him." He would not plead for a life which he fully 
understood was to be sacrificed, whether by " foul or 
fair " means. He simply attempted a vindication of 
his conduct ; but in this, he was cut short by the 
chief-justice. 

Raleigh heard his final sentence pronounced with 
calmness and resignation. He had looked for it daily ; 
old age and disease had overtaken and bound him 
hand and foot ; calumny and malice had followed 
him through life ; his ambition had been foiled ; he 
had painfully experienced the hollowness of life with- 
out God, even in his palmiest days. When he heard 
his hours numbered, therefore, he felt no regret, ex- 
cept for the sake of his cherished wife and son. His 
only request was, that he might " not be cut off' sud- 
denly," as he desired to settle his worldly affairs, to 
write a clear statement of the charges against him, 
and their refutation, and to make his final prepara- 
tion for a near approaching eternity. He was then 
conducted to the Tower, and, after reaching his prison 
chamber, was told that his execution was appointed 
for the following day. 
I* 



202 DISCOVEKEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

Pained by this brutal baste, be caused Lady Ra- 
leigb to be immediately summoned. Tbongb both 
were prepared for the final decision of bis fate, by 
years of trial and dread anticipation, yet their last 
parting Avas rendered far more agonizing by those 
same burdened years, than if life had gone glee- 
fully with them. Sorrow and misfortune were the 
shuttles which sped with the silver threads of sympa- 
thy and love, from heart to heart, and wove them 
into one. Like the talisman of the Genii, too, they 
enabled their possessors to discover true friends from 
false. Few enough remained to Raleigh. This was 
the more painful, because he was about to leave his 
wife and son with but the wreck of his fallen fortunes. 
He would not trust himself to speak of, or to see the 
young Carew, whose birth-place had been a prison. 
His strength and his composure were too far ex- 
hausted already, and he had but few hours remaining. 
Lady Raleigh remained till midnight, when Sir Wal- 
ter affectionately entreated her to leave him. She 
complied ; but, at parting, burst into tears, as she in- 
formed him she had obtained the privilege of claim- 
ing his body. " It is well, Bess," said he, cheerfully, 
" that thou mayst dispose of that dead thou hadst not 
always the disposing of when alive." A last, mourn- 
ful embrace, and Lady Raleigh had gone, to await, 
in agony and tears, the tragedy of the approaching 
day. 

At nine o'clock, on a cold, October morning, Ra- 
leigh was led to the Old Palace yard, where the scaf- 



Sm WALTEK RALEIGH. 203 

fold was erected. He was richly attired in a black 
satin doublet and waistcoat, and over them was 
thrown a black, wrought- velvet robe — a style of 
dress which rendered his striking and noble appear- 
ance still more conspicuous, as he passed through the 
pressing crowd, gathered with eager curiosity to be- 
hold the long heard-of hero, and not without sympa- 
thy for his unjust fate. Supported on either hand 
by the sheriffs and the Dean of "Westminster, he as- 
cended the scaffold, and, after the hum of the multi- 
tude was hushed, addressed them in a voice, weak at 
first, but to which excitement gradually gave strength. 
Though reduced by sickness, he spoke eloquently, and 
with grace and animation ; refuting the charges 
against him, but uttering no word of animadversion, 
in regard to those who had plotted his downfall, and 
giving vent only to a spirit of touching forgiveness, 
towards those who, Judas-like, had kissed him and 
then betrayed him. He had no fear of death ; it was 
not the courage of hardened wickedness, for he him- 
self said to those who wondered at his tranquillity, 
that " no man who knew God and feared him, could 
die with cheerfulness and courage, unless he was as- 
sured of his love and favor." He acknowledged 
nimself to be " a man full of all vanity, and one who 
had lived a sinful life ; " for, said he, " I have been 
a soldier, a sailor, and a courtier — all 6f them cour- 
ses of vice ; but I trust God will not only cast away 
my sins from me, but will receive me into everlast- 
ing life." 



204 DISCOVEKEBS AKD PIOi^^EEKS OB" AMERICA. 

His address finished, he cheerfully and calmly bade 
his friends farewell, and prepared to lay his head 
upon the block. A moment sufficed to convert the 
the brilliant, gifted Ealeigh, into a lifeless, bleeding 
corpse. His severed head was wrapped in his velvet 
robe, and sent, in a mourning coach, to Lady Ra- 
leigh ; a dreadful gift, and the only one the unrelent- 
ing monarch ever condescended to bestow upon this 
hopeless widow. She caused it to be embalmed, and 
preserved it in a case during her life. She survived 
Sir Walter twenty-nine years — faithful to her early 
and devotional love to the last. 

Carew Raleigh, their only remaining son, kept his 
father's head, with religious care, as long as he lived, 
and it was finally buried with him, at his seat of 
West Horsely, in Surrey. The contemplation of this 
relic, must have recalled, with fearful distinctness, 
the shadow upon his early life, the sad face of his 
mother, the voice, the words, and the occupations of 
his imprisoned father. Thus continually reminded 
of his own misfortunes, and his father's clouded name, 
a deep bitterness and melancholy must have been 
fostered in his soul, which was in no way lightened 
of its burden by his unhappy reception at court. " He 
looks like his father's ghost," said James, turning 
away, with fear and remorse, when young Raleigh 
was presented. He was obliged to leave England 
till after that monarch's death. The most unkind act of 
all, however, — and that which most deeply wounded 
him — was the refusal of the successor of James, to 



SIK WALTER EALEIGH. 205 

grant his restoration in blood, except on condition of 
renouncing all title to his father's property. All hope 
of recovering Sherbourne was therefore lost, and he 
was constrained to see this priceless estate, with its 
treasured associations, pass into the hands of stran- 
gers. The title of Sir Walter Raleigh was restored 
in Carew's son — a title which gathers more honor, 
as the prejudices of the historians of that period are 
corrected by the researches of unbiassed seekers after 
truth and justice. 



V. 

HENRY HUDSON. 

During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the 
attention of commercial Europe was often directed 
towards the Arctic seas, as affording a shorter route 
than the one by which traffic with the East was then 
carried on. In 1499, Yasco de Gama, a distinguished 
Portuguese navigator, succeeded in doubling the Cape 
of Good Hope, and opened a new path to the Indies. 
But it was still a tedious and perilous one, and, being 
nearly monopolized by Portugal, offered little advan- 
tage to the English or Dutch. They wished to obtain 
a more important and independent footing in the rich 
Asiatic islands, and, accordingly, when a western 
route failed, they directed the prows of their most 
celebrated navigators to the ice-locked regions of the 
!North, confident that a passage could be forced across 
the North Pole, and easy access gained to the desired 
countries. Many fleets were successively dispatche<i!, 
with this object in view, but they returned disap- 
pointed, if they ever returned at all. 

The first efficient proposers of the project, were sev- 
eral spirited, enterprising English merchants, who 
formed a' "London Company," in 1607, to support 



HENRY HUDSON. 207 

the design. The dangers attending such an enter- 
prise, required a commander of skill and fortitude. 
That they should have selected Henry Hudson, is a 
sufficient guarantee af his experience as a navigator, 
though that experience had never been recorded. 
Nothing whatever is known of his parentage, or of 
the incidents of his boyhood. He nowhere appears 
as a fledgeling; history throws him out, a man of full 
stature, engaged in a bold and hazardous enterprise. 
In manhood, he was an intimate associate of Caj^tain 
John Smith, of Yirginian notoriety — a circumstance 
which enlightens us somewhat, as to the early bent 
of his character. 

Unlike the splendid fleets that, for two hundred 
years, had spread sail from the ports of Europe, the 
one which Henry Hudson commanded, consisted of 
but one strongly built vessel, with a crew of eleven 
men. Among them was his own young son, from 
which it is inferred that he was married, though his 
wife was probably not living, or he would scarcely 
have exposed such a youth to the severities of the in- 
tended voyage. 

On the ninth of April, Hudson, with his crew, re- 
paired to the church of Saint Ethelbui'ge, in Bishops- 
gate-street, to receive the sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper, preparatory to the voyage. This long dis- 
continued custom of mariners commending them- 
selves to God, before venturing upon the deep, was a 
very beautiful one, when reverentially observed ; but 
it was, doubtless, too often desecrated by reckless and 



208 DISC0VEKKK3 AND PIONEERS OF AMEKICA. 

profane men, such as composed Hudson's crew, who 
neither felt the solemnity of the occasion, nor the ob- 
ligations incurred. 

They sailed the first of May, 1607, and in twenty-six 
days arrived off the Shetland Isles. During the fol- 
lowing week, several whales were observed near the 
vessel — a discovery which opened to England the 
profitable whale-fishery of the North. By the 13th 
of June, the adventurers found themselves near the 
coast of Greenland, benumbed with the extreme cold, 
and their ships coated with ice. A heavy fog, which 
almost continually veils those dismal regions, tantal- 
ized their sight, affording but a faint glimpse of the 
ice-bound coast. After two days of difficult cruising, 
they saw the thick mist roll back from the sea, and 
leave to their view the snow-capped hills and moun- 
tains of Greenland, stretching away nine leagues in 
the distance. Instead of the white crystals they ex- 
pected to see sparkling from every sun-lit point, they 
were surprised to behold, here and there, hills envel- 
oped in a mantle of dull red, and portions of the 
shore crimsoned, instead of tinted with the blue and 
grey of shaded snow or ice. It is said that even the 
Alps sometimes wear this "red snow" — an appear- 
ance attributed by some to the spreading luxuriance 
of a plant known as the Protococcus Nivalis ; by 
others it is described as a net-work of fungi, or crim- 
son dust. As a late explorer says of the " crimson 
cliffs of Beverly," one might imagine it "the work 
of a Titan, with his dredging-box of cayenne or 



HENET HUDSON. 209 

brick-dust." It has occasionally been found to ex- 
tend to a depth of ten or twelve feet. 

The innumerable gulfs, the fissured rocks along 
the coast, " Icy Peak," with its immense vault and 
lofty crystal spires, reflecting a brilliancy perceived 
at a distance of ten leagues, and the long chain of in- 
land mountains, beyond which even the hardy native 
has never yet passed, offered no temptation to the 
already half-frozen explorers, who beheld in this 
country of rocks — this " image of chaos and winter " 
— only the portal of the vast region they had under- 
taken to penetrate. 

Hudson hoped that Greenland would prove to be 
an island, and, expecting soon to reach its extremity, 
sailed northeasterly. The head-land, first discovered, 
he called "Young's Cape," and a high mountain, 
"like a round castle," seen in the distance, he called, 
in true primitive style, " Mount of God's Mercy." 
He soon lost sight of land, owing ».to the thick fogs, 
occasioned by melting ice. The Greenlander, on the 
main land, is often blessed with a clear, pure air, du- 
ring summer ; but the surrounding sea is covered 
with so dense a fog, that it is difiicult to see from one 
end of a ship to the other — a circumstance which 
renders navigation extremely dangerous. Beside this 
difficulty, Hudson had to contend with sudden squalls, 
contrary winds, driving rains and sleet, and floating 
icebergs. Finding it impossible to continue a north- 
easterly course to advantage, he steered east, in quest 
of Spitzbergen, and descried land between those 



210 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

islands and the coast of Greenland, whicli he named 
the land of " Hold with Hope." 

Soon after, he came in sight of the mountains of 
Spitzbergen, which, crowned with perpetual snow, 
and flanked with glaciers, reflect, to a great distance, 
a light equal to that of the full moon. The blocks 
of red granite of which they are supposed to be com- 
posed, shine like brilliant fires in the midst of flashing 
diamonds and sapphires of ice, as if the exiled Scan- 
dinavian gods had taken refuge there, and kindled 
beacon-fires upon the craggy clifib. These mountains 
are described, by Malte-Brun, as of enormous eleva- 
tion, " shooting abruptly from the bosom of the sea, 
to such a height, that the bays, vessels, whales, every- 
thing, in short, appears, in their vicinity, extremely 
minute." Flowers are also said to spring up and blos- 
som upon these desolate islands, during the short, 
nightless summer. A chaplet of poppy flowers was 
once gathered there, but, veined as they were with 
delicate frost-work, and nurtured, as they had been, 
from their birth, by the north wind, they must have 
melted away and vanished in the sheltering hand of 
the gatherer, as suddenly as a snow-wreath in the sun 
or as Hawthorne's snow-child, when housed by its 
pitying play-fellows. 

Hudson, like all who had preceded, or who fol- 
lowed him, was struck with the solemn and mysteri- 
ous aspect of those gloomy regions, often vailed, as 
they were, in deceptive mists. He lingered along 
the coast of Spitzbergen for nearly a fortnight, some- 

14 



HENRY HUDSON. 211 

times landing, in quest of morses and seals, or to 
attack the formidable polar bear, which so singularly 
and fearlessly enthrones itself upon the floating islets, 
or bravely resists the hunter, among the ragged rocks 
on the main-laud. At last, catching a favorable wind, 
Hudson again directed Ids prow to the north, pressing 
his way, amidst frequent dangers, towards the dreary 
waste which stretched beyond Spitzbergen. The sea 
was, at times, green, blue, or black ; at one moment 
it exhibited an open surface, the next, was covered 
with immense blocks of ice, which appeared as unex- 
pectedly as if created by the power of a mischievous 
Thor. 

On one occasion, when the ship stood idly waiting 
a breeze, upon the smooth, open sea, a sudden, rush- 
ing sound alarmed the sailors, and, while conjectur- 
ing its nature, they beheld an army of icebergs 
advancing from the distance, over a rolling sea. 
Expecting to be crushed between the immense 
blocks aiding fiercely and swiftly towards them, they 
attempted to lower the boat as the only means of 
escape from the still becalmed ship, but the waves 
grew rajDidly boisterous, and they were left with the 
alternative of being swamped in the open boat, or of 
braving an unwelcome death in the ship. Their stout 
hearts quaked with fear ; but, while hopelessly watch- 
ing the closer approach of the dreaded icebergs, an 
■unexj)ected gale sprang up from the north-west, tilled 
the sails, and bore the ship beyond the reach of the 
sweeping array, so quickly summoned from the re- 



213 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AilERTCA. 

cesses of northern bays. " God give ns thankful 
hearts for so great deliverance," is Hudson's ex]3res- 
sion, in his journal of the occurrence. This event, to- 
gether with serious detention by fogs, inadequate 
provisions for a longer voyage, and the close of the 
short Arctic summer, decided Hudson to attempt 
no farther progress. Accordingly, he steered for 
England, and arrived in the Thames after an absence 
of four months and a half. 

The object for which he had been sent was yet far 
from being accomplished ; but his voyage had not 
been fruitless. It had opened to England the new 
and profitable commerce of the whale fisheries, and 
had carried discovery farther north than any mariner 
had hitherto dared to go ; Hudson had also acquired 
by it an exj^erience which would greatly aid him in 
prosecuting a second voyage more vigorously. These 
considerations induced the London company to em- 
ploy him the following year. 

More complete preparations to meet the rigors of 
a polar climate, were made early in the spring of 
1608. The ship, with a crew of fifteen men, inclu- 
ding Hudson's son again, was in readiness more 
promptly than in the preceding season. Intending to 
find a passage in the north-east instead of the north- 
west, Hudson sailed from London the 22d of April. 
Heavy fogs prevented his rapid progress, so that he 
did not reach the coast of Norway till the 24:tli of 
May. After this, a few days of clear, cold weather 
enabled him to press at good speed to the north-east. 



HENKY HUDSON. 213 

By the 29th, they had reached so high a latitude that 
" the sun was on meridian above the horizon five de- 
grees," enabling Hudson to make observations at mid- 
night. Continuing his desired course as nearly as 
possible, desjiite the storms that now assailed them, the 
ship was soon ploughing its way through the icy sea, 
avoiding the larger masses of ice, and loosening the 
smaller fragments, till five leagues of the frozen field 
had been measured. Tlie thickness and firmness of 
the ice through which a path was now to be forced, 
alarmed Hudson, lest he had ventured too far, and 
would be held in an interminable winter, to suffer 
and to perish, beyond the hailing voice of the most 
daring navigators who might follow him. He re- 
traced, as hastily as possible, the course by which he 
had entered these forbidding regions, having experi- 
enced no damage except, as he says, " a few rubs of 
the ship against the ice." 

He now continued his voyage directly east, some- 
times attempting to turn his prow to a higher latitude, 
but always driven back by the ice. Finding himself 
in the vicinity of Nova Zembla, he resolved to abandon 
his hitherto fruitless eff'orts, and seek a passage by the 
straits of " the Vaygatz, and decided to pass by the 
mouth of the River Ob, and to double, in that way, 
the North Cape of Tartaria." These straits are be- 
tween the southern extremity of Nova Zembla and 
the northen coast of Russia. While seeking the 
island, two of the sailors asserted that they distinctly 
saw a mermaid floating about the shipr, one morning. 



214 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

and described her as very fair, with long b. ack hair 
flowing from her perfectly formed head. A sea sud- 
denly overturned her while they were watching her, 
and they beheld her glide away into the waves, and 
down to the " purple twilight " of a lower sea. The 
imagined sight was enough to bring out the " sailor's 
reel " during the remainder of the voyage. 

When within two miles of Nova Zembla, Hudson 
sent several of the crew ashore to survey the island, 
or rather the two islands which form it. " Each of 
them is divided from north to south by a prolonga- 
tion of the Uralian mountains, but they consist chiefly 
of a marshy, moss-clad plain." The mariners found 
several streams rolling towards the sea, but they were 
mostly occasioned by melting snow. Without at- 
tempting to venture far upon the marshes, they con- 
tented themselves with gathering flowers and moss- 
es, and obtaining a piece from a cross they found 
erected near the shore, and then returned to the ship. 

Afterwards, while pursuing a herd of morses, swim- 
ming near the ship, Hudson found himself at the 
mouth of a broad river or sound, and, thinking he 
might pass through it to the eastern side of J^ova 
Zembla, he abandoned his intention of going by the 
Yaygatz Straits. Several of his men, who were sent 
to explore it for some distance, returned with the fa- 
vorable report that the river was two or three leagues 
broad, with a strong outward current. Encouraged 
by this, Hudson immedii^tely steered up the river, — 
proceeding nin6 leagues with his ship. The boat was 



HENKY HUDSON. 215 

tlien rigged with a sail, and manned by several of the 
crew, to explore the river, till it was found to bend 
to the eastward. They returned the next day, with 
the unwelcome news that they had sounded the river 
at seven leagues, and found but four feet of water. 

Hudson was severely disappointed at this result, 
for the lateness of the season now prevented his pas- 
sage by the Yaygatz, and he disliked to return from 
so unprofitable a voyage. Hoping, at least, to defray 
the expenses incurred, by obtaining morses, he di- 
verged from a direct homeward route ; but in this, 
also, he was unsuccessful, and, unwilling to "lay 
more charge upon the action than necessity should 
compel," he honorably abandoned further search and 
returned to England, after an absence of little more 
than four months. 

The company by whom he was employed, were dis- 
appointed at his failure, and refused to bear the ex- 
pense of a third voyage, at present. Hudson had 
become too deeply interested in the project to aban- 
don it thus, and, unwilling to wait the pleasure of 
the London Company, he went immediately to Hol- 
land, to ofi'er his services to the Dutch East India 
Company. Notwithstanding the discouraging voice 
of one of their number, who had himself ventured 
largely in Arctic voyages, they readily accepted Hud- 
son's proposal, for his fame had often reached them ; 
indeed, he was well known in Holland as " the bold 
Englishman, the expert pilot, and the famous naviga- 
tor " A small ship or yacht, named the Half Moon, 



216 DISC0VEEEK3 AND TIONEEBS OF AMERICA. 

was soon equipped and provided with a crew of six- 
teen or twenty English and Dutchmen, among whom 
was Robert Juet, who had accompanied him in his 
former voyage, and who was ultimately to bear so 
despicable a part in the closing tragedy of Hudson's 
Hfe. 

By the 25th of March, the Half Moon sailed from 
Amsterdam, and, by the 27th, had lost sight of the 
towers, cupolas and spires of Amsterdam, with the 
vast, flat meadow that surrounds it, and had safely 
navigated the perilous Zuyderzee, and passed the 
Texel. In another month, Hudson had sailed beyond 
Norway, doubled the I^orth Cape, and was once more 
struggling with head winds, ice, and fogs, in vain at- 
tempts to reach India by the Yaygatz. Determined 
not to lose the season in fruitless plans, he immedi- 
ately determined to abandon the north-eastern route, 
and resume his former efforts in the west. Of several 
plans, he proposed two to the choice of his crew — 
either to find a north-western passage by Davis' 
Straits, or to sail south, in quest of a strait which was 
laid down upon a map, given him by his old friend, 
Captain John Smith, as being near Yirginia, and by 
which he might reach the Pacific. Most of the sail- 
ors had been accustomed to voyaging in warm cli- 
mates, and, dreading the horrors of frozen regions, 
chose the southern route. 

After touching at the Faroe Islands, Hudson steered 
for Newfoundland. A severe gale, and a prolonged 
storm of three weeks, seriously disabled the ship for 



HENEY HUDSO^^ 2 1 T 

a time, and discouraged the voyagers ; but the return 
of fair weather permitted them to make repairs, and 
restored their failing spirits. When arrived off the 
coast of Newfoundland, thej discovered a large fleet 
of Frenchmen, engaged in fishing, and, finding them- 
selves becalmed, took thp, boat and joined in the oc- 
cupation. They were successful enough to secure one 
hundred and thirty codfish, to be added to their ship- 
stores. After resuming the voyage, they passed ISTo- 
va Scotia, and in a few days anchored in Penobscot 
Bay. The natives flocked to the ship in great num- 
bers, eager to exchange furs for knives, hatchets and 
various trinkets. They were friendly, unsuspicious, 
and gave no reason for the treatment they afterwards 
experienced from the crew. A strict watch was 
kept upon them at night, and, although not a sign 
of treachery was discovered, the night before the ship 
set sail, the " scute " was manned with six well-armed 
men, and sent to seize one of the shallops in which 
the Indians had visited them. They brought it on 
board, and then again went to the shore, drove the 
savages from their wigwams, and took possession of 
all their simple effects — a proceeding as base as it 
was unchristian. The poor, uncivilized savages them- 
selves were nobler, and purer than this unprincipled 
crew, whose whole route was marked by riot and 
drunkenness. Hudson must either have been an irres- 
olute commander, or an accustomed participator in 
in such scenes. 
The morning after this outrage, Hudson set sail, 
J 



218 DISCO VEEEKS AND PIONEEKS OP AMEEICA. 

steering southward aloDg; the coast of the continent. 
At Cape Cod, his men went ashore and found an 
abundance of " goodly grapes," which they bore to 
the ship like the trophies of Eshcol, to show " the 
fruit of the land." 

Hudson next passed JS'antucket and Martha's Vine- 
yard, and from these, continued a southern course till 
he reached the Carolinas, and then turned again to 
the north, having satisfied himself that no passage to 
the Pacific Ocean existed there. Upon his return, 
he diapovered the bay, since called Delaware Bay, 
but made no attempt to land. He then coasted 
northward, " passing along a low, marshy coast skirt- 
ed with broken islands," and in a few days the high- 
lands of Neversink greeted his sight. On the mor- 
ning of the 4:th of September, he anchored within 
Sandy Hook Bay, willing to recruit after a long voy- 
age, before exploring the wooded islands and minia- 
ture capes and promotories that thrust themselves out 
all along the main land, as if to compete for the first 
footsteps of the strangers. "It is a very good land to 
fall in with, and a pleasant land to see," Hudson sum- 
marily recorded in his journal. 

While at anchor here, Hudson sent several of his 
men with nets to fish, and it is supposed they landed 
on Coney Island. They returned to the ship with the 
spoil, and gave a glowing account of plum-trees, 
laden with ripe, purple fruit, and draped and em- 
bowered in a rich growth of grape-vines, which eve- 
rywhere hung out their tempting clusters. In the 



HENKT HUDSON. 219 

meantime, the natives, who had noticed the arrival of 
the ship with wonder and curiosity, crowded to the 
shore ; finally, a few summoned sufficient courage to 
venture in canoes, to get a nearer view of the formi- 
dable Dutch craft. By the following morning, the 
Jersey shore was lined with men, women and chil- 
dren, who eagerly awaited the landing of the welcome 
visitors, and enticed them with lively gestures. The 
sight of the green slojDes, the dark billows of foliage 
upon the distant hills, the bright blossoms of the dog- 
wood and wild briar, the changing leaves of the gay 
sumach, and the drooping, trailing vines overhanging 
the water's edge with their ripe burdens, was too al- 
luring to be withstood, when compared with the late- 
ly seen, bleak and barren regions of the jiorth. As 
soon, therefore, as Hudson dispatched his men to 
sound the bay, they turned their boat to the shore. 

Attracted by the beauty of the forest, and disarmed 
of fear by the extreme kindness of the natives, they 
rambled for miles back into the wilderness, followed 
all the way by troops of Indians, and met by others, 
of seeming superiority, who wore mantles of fur or 
feathers, and displayed an abundance of copper orna- 
ments. That they forgot their own magnificence in 
amazement at the quaint, outlandish costume of the 
strangers, is not to be wondered at ; for, should a Dutch 
craft of two centuries ago, not very unlike the one 
Irving humorously describes as " one hundred feet in 
the beam, one hundred feet in the keel, and one hun- 
dred feet from the bottom of the stern post to the 



220 DISCOVEKERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

taffrel," sail now into tlie enlivened bay, and its crew 
land npon the same shores, equipped in doublets and 
jerkins, enormous breeches, cocked hats, and high- 
heeled shoes, a far greater curiosity would be mani- 
fested, even in these days of wonders, than was be- 
trayed by the stately and grave politeness of the un- 
tutored warriors. 

Many traditions of Hudson's first landing are pre- 
served. One, well authenticated as having been re- 
lated to a missionary by the Indians, is given in sev- 
eral historical collections, as follows : " A long time 
ago, when there was no such thing known to the In- 
dians as people with a white skin, some Indians who 
had been out a fishing, and where the sea widens, es- 
pied at a great distance, something remarkably large, 
swimming or floating on the water, and such as they 
had never seen before. They immediately, returning 
to- the shore, told their countrymen of what they had 
seen, and pressed them to go out with them, and dis- 
cern what it might be. . . . Accordingly, tliey 
sent runners to carry the news to their scattered 
chiefs, that they might send oflF in every direction for 
the warriors to come in. These now came in num- 
bers, and seeing the strange appearance, and that it 
was actually moving forward, concluded that it was 
a large canoe, or house, in which the Great Manitto 
himself was, and that he probably was coming to 
visit them. . . . They now prepared plenty of 
meat for a sacrifice ; the women were required to pre- 
pare the best of victuals ; their idols or images were 



HENET HUDSON. 221 

examined and pnt in order ; and a grand dance was 
supposed not only to be an agreeable entertainment 
for the Manitto, but might, with the addition of a 
sacrifice, contribute towards appeasing him, in case 
he was angrj. ... It now appeared certain that 
it was their Manitto coming, bringing, probably, some 
new kind of game. But other runners now came in, 
declaring that it was a house of various colors and 
filled with people, but that the people were of a dif- 
ferent color from themselves ; that they were, also, 
dressed in a different manner from themselves, and 
that one, in particular, appeared altogether red. This 
they they thought must be the Manitto himself. They 
were now lost in admiration. . . . The house (or 
large canoe) stopped, and a smaller canoe now came 
on shore, bringing the red man, and some others in 
it. The chiefs and wise men formed a circle, into 
which the red-clothed man and two others approached. 
He saluted them with a friendly countenance, and 
they returned the salute after their manner. They 
were amazed at the color of their skin and dress, par- 
ticularly at the red man, whose clothes glittered with 
something they could not account for. He must be 
the great Manitto, they thought, but then why should 
he have a white skin ? A large, elegant hochhach 
was brought forward by one of the Manitto's ser- 
vants, and something poured from it into a small cup 
or glass, and handed to the Manitto. He drank it, 
had the cup refilled, and had it handed to the chief 
next to him, for him to drink. The chief took it. 



222 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

Bmelt it, and passed it to tlie next, who did the same. 
The cnp passed in this way round the circle, nntasted, 
and was about to be returned to the red clothed man, 
when one' of their number, a spirited man, and a 
great warrior, jumped up, and harangued the multi- 
tude on the impropriety of returning.the cup unemp- 
tied. He said it was handed to them by the Manitto 
to drink out of, as he had done ; that to follow his 
example would please him, but to return what he had 
given them might provoke him, and cause him to 
destroy them. And that since he believed it to be 
for the good of the nation, that the contents offered 
them should be drunk, if no one else was willing to 
drink, he would try it, let the consequence be what 
it would, for it was better for one man to die, than 
that a whole nation should be destroyed. He then 
took the glass, smelt it, addressed them again, and 
bidding them all farewell, drank it. All eyes were 
now fixed upon him, to see what effect this would 
produce. He soon began to stagger, and the women 
cried, supposing he had fits. Presently he rolled on 
the ground, and they all began to bemoan him, sup- 
posing him to be dying. Then he fell asleep, and 
they now thought he was dead, but presently they 
saw that he was still breathing. In a little time he 
awoke, jumped up, and declared that he never felt 
himself so happy before, as when he had drunk the 
cup. He asked for more, which was given to him, , 
and the whole assembly soon joined him, and all be- 
came intoxicated. While the intoxication lasted, the 



HENET HUDSON. 223 

wliite men kept themselves in tlieir vessel, and when 
it was over, the man with the red clothes again re- 
turned to them, bringing them presents of beads, 
axes, hoes, and stockings." 

A Dutch historian, who had himself visited Amer- 
ica, and who wrote his history only forty-three years 
after Hudson made the voyage, relates a similar tra- 
dition. It is found, also, in a history written forty- 
one years after the occurrence, and, from its perfect 
accordance with the character of the crew, it may be 
esteemed a correct relation. 

Hudson and his men, according to their own ac- 
count, regarded the Indians with distrust, although 
they gave no occasion for it, till, one dark night, when 
an exploring party were returning in a boat to the 
ship, they suddenly encountered two skiffs containing 
twenty-six Indians, who immediately discharged their 
arrows at random, in the direction of the retreating 
boat. Whether the attack was meditated, or whether 
the unexpected meeting frightened them, can only 
be judged by their subsequent conduct. They made 
no display of hostility the following day, but, on the 
contrary, went unarmed, and with innocent faces, to 
the ship, trusting themselves to the power of the 
whites, in a manner which, at least, did not betray 
guilt. One of the crew was killed by an arrow du- 
ring the sudden affray, and was buried at Sandy 
Hook, upon a spot named Colman's Point, in memory 
of his loss. 

The next day, two long canoes, one filled with 



1^24 DISCOTEEFKS AKD riOKT^FI?? OF AIMFRICA. 

armed warriors, the other with traders, ai^proached 
the ship. Hudson would not permit them to come 
on board, with the exception of two men whom he 
dressed in red coats, and detained as hostages ; and 
with these he sailed into the Narrows, and from 
thence into the Bay of New York. Here he re- 
mained for a day ; his solitary ship tracking the wa- 
ters of the beautiful bay which, in the future, was to 
bear upon its bosom the stately steamers and grace- 
ful fleets of many nations. On the one hand stretched 
the low shores of Long Island, and, on the other, 
knolls of " smiling green " rose, one above another. 
The trees waved a greeting from the hill-tops, and 
brilliant blossoms nodded a cheerful welcome from 
the sloping banks. Before him lay the island of Man- 
hattan, in rich undulations of hill and dale, variega- 
ted with the dark, shining foliage of the oak, and the 
pale green of the sycamore. Quiet and loneliness 
rested upon the island, which nearly a million now 
call home ; and scarcely a wave disturbed the waters 
where now a forest of masts girdles the city, as if 
the bristling legions of ancient armies, with their 
chariots, spears, and floating banners, had encircled it. 
The great river which Hudson now beheld gliding 
into the bay from the north, suggested to him that 
here he might find the passage to India or China, 
which he had so long sought — an idea easily ridi- 
culed, now that it is proved fallacious, but no more 
chimerical, at that time, than a thousand others en- 
tertained by his cotemporaries. Accordingly, the 



HENKY HUDSON. 225 

Half Moon "was soon slowly creeping np the wide 
river, occasionally anclioring in its lazy course. In- 
dians came shooting out from the shores, here and 
there, in their canoes, laden with provisions, and cor- 
dially offering their simple hospitality. All were re- 
pulsed with a distrust which they were quick to per- 
ceive, and ready to return. 

By the fourteenth of September, the ship " anchored 
in a region where the land was very high and moun- 
tainous." At last, then, the little vessel, with its quaint 
crew, had reached the Highlands. Used, as Hudson 
was, to the monotonous undulations of his own coun- 
try, and to dreary stretches of eternal ice and snow, 
and accustomed, as the Dutch mariners were, to gaze 
upon the flat meadows of Holland, they must have 
found a novel charm in this wild overhanging of pre- 
cipices, the lofty pyramids of foliage, and the wide, 
smooth river, enclosed among the mountains like a 
chain of lakelets, or as if a Loch Lomond, with its 
Scottish heights, had been transported to the midst 
of the rich region they traversed. They had passed 
the Palisades, 

" those pillared heights, in grandeur lone, 

Oft visioned to our dumb and dreamy wonder, 
One long Niagara, changed to silent stone." 

All night, the ship was moored beneath the tower- 
ing Highlands, within hearing of the roar of wild 
beasts, and the screeching of night-birds ; perhaps, 
too, the beacon fires of the Lidians gleamed from the 
J* 15 



226 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

hills, as a warning of the invasion of a new and un- 
friendly people. At sunrise, a mist hung over the 
river, and whitened the mountains of forest, but a 
fresh breeze soon swept it away, and again the ship 
was gliding through the windings of the Highlands. 
Here the two natives who had been gaudily decked 
out, and retained as hostages, leaped into the water, 
swam to the shore, and vented either their delight at 
regained freedom, or anger at their captors, in loud 
cries, and " scornful looks." Hudson regretted their 
escape. 

The ship, it is supposed, was next anchored near 
Catskill Landing; they had "passed by the high 
mountains " and arrived in sight of others " which lie 
from the river's side." Unlike the changed shores of 
the river, they are yet, as when Hudson beheld them, 
unscathed by the axe, the plow, and the sythe of 
the unsparing American. We still see them rounded 
in magical hues and shapes against the sky, in the 
pearly mists of morning, or softly lined by the shad- 
ows of evening. 

" Nay, so dim the distant gleam 
And faint the shadows, that, to musing eyes, 

The snow and vapor gliostly forms enshroud — 
A Hamlet's father, helmet-crowned and pale. 

Or, turbaued in the summit-wreatbs of cloud. 
The Prophet of Khorassan, with his Silver Veil." 

Here Hudson found " very loving people, and very 
old men," whose offers of hospitality were more kind- 
ly received than those of the war-like tribes below. 



HENKT HUDSON. 227 

He was entertained by an aged chief, and a happy 
understanding seemed to exist between them. The 
natives flocked to the ship with provisions, anxious to 
exchange them for the showy trinkets the Dutchmen 
offered. A day passed here in fishing and filling the 
water casks, and, on the following, Hudson continued 
his progress up the river, till he arrived in the vicin- 
ity of the present city of Hudson. He now found the 
river growing narrow and shallow — " a phenomenon 
not uncommon in the ascent of rivers," says an au- 
thor, with overflowing humor, "but which puzzled 
the honest Dutchmen prodigiously." Doubting the 
possibility of a higher ascent, yet unwilling to dis- 
miss, altogether, his cherished surmise that it would 
afford an opening to China, he ventured six leagues 
further, where the ship ran aground. He then dis- 
patched several of his men in a boat, to explore the 
river, and take soundings. They reported the nar- 
rowness of the channel, but Hudson was still deter- 
mined to move up the river. 

On the morning of the twenty-first, it was his inten- 
tion to proceed ; but by this time crowds of Indians 
had pressed around the ship, and clambered upon the 
deck. They were regarded with coldness and re- 
serve. Hudson determined to assure himself of their 
intentions by causing them to drink deeply, and thus 
" throw them off their guard." Inducing a few of the 
chiefs to accompany him to the cabin, he entertained 
them with wine till they "were all merry." The 
wife of one of the chiefs, and some of her compan- 



228 DISCOVEKKRS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

ions, sat near, modestly and timidly watching the 
strange proceedings, and, probably, wondering at the 
unaccountable merriment, and boisterous movements 
of the usually grave chieftains. The cup passed 
round till one of the number fell into the lethargy of 
drunkenness. Unable to awaken him, the rest be- 
came alarmed, and, believing him poisoned, or under 
some laysterious spell, fled to the deck, plunged into 
their canoes, and, with all speed, made for the shore. 
They could not thus forsake one of their number ; 
some of them returned with long strings of beads, 
hoping to buy back the drunken chief. By the fol- 
lowing day, he recovered from the effects of the ex- 
periment which Hudson and his rolicking crew, de- 
void of all principle and honor, had imposed upon the 
innocent natives, introducing among them the vices 
of civilized nations, and withholding from them the 
light of Truth which God required at their hands. 

After having explored and sounded the river as far 
as the site of Albany, Hudson was obliged to yield 
his opinion, and return by the way he entered. 
"While retracing his course, some of his men occasion- 
ally landed, and strolled along the banks, admiring 
" the good store of goodly oaks and walnut trees, 
and chestnut trees, yew trees, and tiees of sweet 
wood." Thus they rambled and glided down the 
river, and through the wilderness already brilliant 
with the gorgeous hues of October. The looming 
Catskills again attracted their admiring eyes, thougli 
Hudson little dreamed, as he gazed, that he should 



HENKY HUDSON. 229 

ever figure there, in the eyes of posterity, as " a stont 
old gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance," 
wearing " a lace doublet, broad belt and hanger, high- 
crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high- 
heeled shoes, with roses in them," and he playing at 
nine-pins with his uncouth, phantom crew. 

After passing the Highlands, the ship was once 
more anchored, and, as usual, crowds of natives has- 
tened to dispose of their furs and tobacco. They had 
not sufficient to purchase all the articles their eyes 
coveted, and one Indian was prompted to steal what 
he could not otherwise obtain. Climbing from his 
canoe to the cabin window, he obtained a pillow and 
some clothing, and hastily rowed away with his spoil. 
He was seen, and, in another moment, was struck 
down by a well-aimed shot. The ship's boat was 
manned and sent for the stolen articles, which were 
obtained, but, on their return, an Indian, who deter- 
mined to revenge the death, of his comrade, seized 
and attempted to overturn the boat. One of the crew 
cut off his offending hand at a blow, and he sank, 
never to rise again. Thus were the fiercest passions 
of the savages called forth by uncalled-for severity, 
and by brutal sporting with their ignorance. As 
might be expected, by the time the Half Moon 
reached the mouth of the river, the Indians were pre- 
pared to take revenge for the indignities put u2)on 
them. Several canoes, filled with armed warriors, 
intercepted the ship's passage, near the island of 
Manhattan, and a vigorous fight ensued. Ten In- 



230 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

dians were shot during the affray, and the rest fled in 
terror to the woods for shelter, None of the crew 
were harmed. 

By the fourth of October, Hudson was again at sea. 
The length of the voyage had caused much dissatis- 
faction among the crew. Some wished to winter at 
Newfoundland, and accomplish the object for which 
they had been sent, by pursuing a northern course, 
the following spring. Others desired to hasten 
home. The mutinous spirit that existed among his 
men, decided Hudson to return immediately to Hol- 
land, satisfied in having discovered for his patrons a 
noble stream, navigable for more than one hundred 
miles, through a beautiful and fertile region. But, 
instead of returning to Holland, he landed at Dart- 
mouth, in England, in consequence, it is supposed, of 
a mutiny ; the Dutch attribute his detention there to 
jealousy of the English king. He promptly sent the 
journal and charts of his voyage to his employers, 
and depicted the advantages they might derive from 
their acquisition of one of the finest harbors yet 
discovered, and the picturesque and majestic river, 
which he named the "Great River of the Mouuiains," 
but which was, eventually, to bear his own name. 

Allowing himself only the repose of a few months, 
Hudson was actively engaged in preparing for an- 
other voyage, early in the spring of 1610. The Lon- 
don Company furnished him with the ship Discovery, 
of fifty-five tons. It was thoroughly equipped for a 
cruise m the northern seas, and manned with twenty- 



HEKRY HUDSON. 231 

three men, one of whom was Hudson's son. They 
sailed from Loudon, the seventeenth of April, and 
steered for the north-western inlets of the American 
continent, especially Davis' Straits, hoping to find, in 
some one of them, a channel to the "Great South 
Sea." 

In less than a month, the Discovery was coasting 
Iceland — that dreary island which Malte-Brun de- 
scribes as " a land of prodigies, where the subterra- 
neous fires of the abyss burst through a frozen soil ; 
where boiling springs shoot up their fountains, amidst 
eternal snows ; and where the powerful genius of 
liberty, and the no less powerful genius of poetry, 
have given brilliant proofs of the energies of the hu- 
man mind, at the farthest confines of animated nature." 
While the voyagers were struggling through the shoals 
of ice, and battling with the winds, which often boro 
along columns of little, icy particles, blinding and 
painful to the exposed mariners, they beheld, at a dis- 
tance of scarcely two leagues, the shooting flames of 
Mount Hecla, and the red-hot lava overflowing its 
scarred declivities. "Willing to recruit, after a fort- 
night's endurance of storms and head winds, Hudson 
took refuge in a harbor on the western side of the 
island, where he was kindly received by the natives. 
The sailors amused themselves with bathing in some 
of the hot springs, which throw up streaming jets from 
all the plains of Iceland. Although " hot enough to 
scald a fowl," as Hudson's journal remarks, and, al- 
though the inhabitants often make use of them, in 



232 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

boiling vegetables, meat, or eggs, yet the sailors suf- 
fered no inconvenience in these singular baths. The 
desolateness of the snowy valleys, is relieved by these 
fantastic fountains, which rise in tall, smoking col- 
umns, hung with sparkling girandoles. 

Not satisfied with the respite, which Hudson tlius 
considerately afforded his men, they began here to 
exhibit the insubordinate temper, w^hich was to ter- 
minate so fatally. The most quarrelsome of the crew 
were Juet, the mate, who had accompanied Hudson 
on his previous voyage, and Henry Green, a young 
Englishman, of respectable parentage, but whose 
profligacy had made him an outcast. Hudson had 
found him almost a beggar, in the streets of London, 
had clothed and fed him, and had interceded with his 
mother for a sum of money to fit him for a voyage ; 
he then offered him fair wages to accompany him, 
and, in order to awaken his ambition, encouraged 
him to aspire to a place in the " Prince's Guards," 
upon his return. Hudson extended the utmost kind- 
ness and forbearance toward these two abandoned 
men, who, though bound to him by the ties of grati- 
tude, and frequent fellowship in danger, filled up the 
measure of their degradation, by consigning a tried 
and forgiving friend to a lingering and fearful death. 

Hudson succeeded in allaying the disturbance 
which these two men had created among the whole 
crew, and, when he left Iceland, supposed that kind- 
liness was restored. By tlie fourth of June, they be- 
held the coast of Greenland, but the shores were so 



HENKY HUDSON. 233 

firmly ice-bound that no attempts were made to land. 
Doubling the southern point, he steered for the north- 
west portion of the American continent — though his 
progress was often seriously obstructed by floating 
" mountains of ice." While sailing in Davis' Straits, 
he was in the close vicinity of an overturning ice- 
berg — a phenomenon occasioned by the melting of 
the ice upon one side,' and its consequent loss of equi- 
librium. The thick fog, by which the melting 
masses are surrounded, and the sort of whirlpool at- 
tending their wild frolics, causes imminent danger to 
ships in their neighborhood. But Hudson had scarcely 
time to be grateful for his escape, before another and 
another came driving in his course, as if endowed 
with malignant intelligence, and a determination to 
bear down upon his frail vessel, and sink it forever. 
Like the jealous Japanese, they seemed resolved to 
keep off the unwelcome presence of intermeddling 
.foreigners. 

It required Hudson's utmost skill to dodge these 
threatening rocks of ice, and he was glad to escape 
into a bay that offered shelter. He had no sooner 
reached it, than a severe storm overtook him, and the 
rapidly accumulating ice was driven so violently 
against the shijD, that he could only preserve her 
from destruction by running her into the thickest of 
it, and permitting it to lock her into a frozen des- 
ert. Dismay was depicted upon the countenances of 
the mariners. Some " fell sick with grief," but, as 
80on as the storm ceased, the most courageous went 



234 DISCOVERERS AND PIOIvEERS OF AlVfERICA. 

lustily to work, hewing a i^atli for the ship. They 
succeeded in hauling her from one cle^r sea to an- 
other, yet, as far as the eye could reach, the saine 
field of ice stretched before them, and, at last, they 
gave up in despair. 

Hudson afterwards confessed that he expected to 
have perished there. His men, however, perceived 
no misgiving or fear in his demeanor. He preserved 
a cheerful countenance, and endeavored to recall the 
vigor and animation o^ the crew, who had yielded 
themselves to helpless fear, irritable repinings, or 
hardened bravado. The trial of the moment, devel- 
oped the characters with whom Hudson had to deal ; 
and he must have been stung with the ingratitude 
and reckless villany, now clearly exhibited to him in 
the conduct of those whom he had befriended. 
He forebore all remonstrance or threats, and, with 
an air of self-confidence and of unbroken hope, he 
summoned the crew, spread his charts before them, 
and ofiTered to their choice what course they should 
pursue ; whether he should turn his prow home- 
ward, or should still press to the north, assuring 
them with pride, that they had already outsailed all 
English navigators, and might yet secui-e the glory 
of discovering the passage so perseveringly sought 
for many years. 

As he anticipated, no two could agree, and they 
were forced to see that they did not know themselves, 
what they desired. The majority finally declared 
it mattered little where they went, and that they 



HENKT HUDSOlSr. 2.35 

longed only to escape from the dismal prospect be- 
fore them. Hudson kindlj reasoned with the most 
turbulent, allayed the fears of the timid, and in- 
spired the hopeless with courage and strength. He 
then united them in a resolute effort to extricate the 
ship. They succeeded, after much labor, in working 
her out of the broad field of ice which had so speed- 
ily and unexpectedly enclosed her. Had Hudson 
continued to exercise the cool courage, decision, and 
kind expostulation, which characterized him during 
this perilous exj^erience, he might have escaped the 
sad fate that awaited him. 

Their north-western course was resumed, and by 
the eighth of July, land was discovered ; it was cov- 
ered with snow, and Hudson named it " Desire Pro- 
voked." A succession of capes, bays, and islands, 
met his eyes, as he entered the straits, which now 
bear his name. Seeing the broad channel before 
him, he believed that, at last, he had found the cov- 
eted passage to the Indies. With elated spirits, he 
sailed through the straits, till he approached the last 
visible points of land on the north and south, one of 
which he called Cape Digges ; the other, Cape Wor- 
senholrae. He sent several of his men to ascend the 
hills of Cape Digges, hoping they could discern the 
great ocean, he was sure lay beyond. They explored 
the grassy plains that intervened between the coast 
and the hills, but the farther they advanced, the more 
distant seemed the deceptive hills, until, wearied with 
dragging over the marshy expanse, and overtaken by 



2I>() DISCOVEEPES AND PIONEEES OF AJNIEEICA. 

a storm, they returned towards the ship. A fog had 
veiled her from their sight, and, for some time, they 
wandered along the shore in vain search, but the 
firing of two guns on board, guided them safely back. 
They could give no account of the imagined sea ; but 
a discovery, more important to their present neces- 
sities, resulted from their explorations, namely, the 
abundance of game, found upon the cape. Hudson 
was too impatient to reach the Indies, to listen to the 
wishes of his men, to store the ship while opportunity 
offered, and immediately set sail for the broad, inland 
sea, that opened to the south. 

It required but a short time to reach the extremity 
of Hudson's Bay. When Hudson beheld the unwel- 
come sight of land ahead, his heart sank within him ; 
yet, unwilling to believe himself embayed, he fol- 
lowed the deceitful windings of the shore, always be- 
lieving that, beyond the next jutting point, he should 
find the wished-for outlet. After days of wandering 
in this " labyrinth without end," as he impatiently 
denominated it, he was obliged to acknowledge his 
disappointment, and the uselessness of further effort, 
as the season was now too far advanced for exploration. 
Irritated at his repeated failures, he no longer bore 
with his formei' patience, the complaints and contin- 
ued quarrels of his wrangling crew. A court of in- 
quiry was appointed to try the most turbulent, which 
resulted in the exposure of the mutinous plans of 
Robert Juet, the mate, and his associate, the boatswain, 
both of whom had induced the discontented sailors to 



HEjSTET HUDSON. 237" 

keep loaded arms by them. The two were removed 
from their duties, and replaced by others in whom 
Hudson reposed confidence. 

The first of November had overtaken the voyagers 
while still exploring the bay. Successive tempests 
had driven them hither and thither ; long, cold nights 
contributed to their sufi'ering ; disappointment and 
insubordination distracted their minds, and only the 
disheartening prospect of wintering in the bay M^as 
before them. With a perseverance amounting to 
obstinacy, Hudson determined to remain and be in 
readiness, in the following spring, to continue his pur- 
suit. He ran the ship into a small bay, and sent two 
of the sailors in search of a suitable position for 
a winter's shelter ; when found, the ship was hauled 
aground, and in another week, was firmly fastened in 
the ice. 

" It is difficult," says a review of " Life at Hudson's 
Bay," " for stay-at-home people, who, at the first ice- 
tree upon their wilidows, creep into the chimney cor- 
ner and fleecy hosiery, to imagine such a temperature 
as that of Hudson's Bay, where, from October to 
April, the thermometer seldom rises to the freezing 
point, and frequently falls from 30 deg. to 40 deg., 
45 deg., and even 49 deg. below zero, of Fahrenheit " 
— a temperature, however, which a continued calm 
renders endurable. The slightest breath of wind 
penetrates a treble suit of fur, leather and blankets, 
as readily as if the wearer was enveloped in gauze. 
"Without the luxury of fur, or a superabundance of 



238 DISCOVEEI'ES AKD PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

blankets, Avith nothing beyond their ordinary supply 
of clothing, and with scarcely two months' provisions, 
the forlorn mariners of the Discovery were exposed 
to the rigors of such a winter. Whichever way they 
turned, nothing could be perceived but a savage des- 
ert, where precipitous rocks rose to the cold, gray 
clouds, or yawned into deep ravines and barren 
valleys which never felt the warmth of the sun, and 
never could tempt the searching footsteps of a human 
being, to their unfathomable depths of eternal snow. 
There was no alternative but to remain in this 
dreary and unpeopled region for more than six months, 
and to shelter themselves as best they could. Hudson, 
commenced at once to put the men on short allow- 
ance, and offered a reward for " beast, fish, or fowl," 
which they might obtain. During the first three 
months, they secured a fair supply of white partridges 
and other birds, but as the cold became extreme, 
game gradually disappeared, and the half-starved 
sailors went wandering over the bleak hills in search 
of anything that could sustain life ; not a frog, nor 
a clump of moss was refused by them. In these al- 
most daily excursions, some one returned with his 
feet, hands, or ears, severely frozen ; for, though a 
clear and cloudless sky was above them, upon first 
venturing out, it was no surety against a tempest up- 
on their return ; and to meet the keen, piercing blast, 
driving clouds of snow before it, was an intensity of 
suffering of which they carried the marks for many a 
day. 



HENKY HUDSON. 239 

Unable to find comfortable shelter on ship-board, 
for the whole crew, Hudson directed the carpenter to 
go ashore and erect a suitable house. The carpenter 
had, himself, proposed doing it earlier in the season, 
but he assured his captain that the frost and snow 
now rendered the work impossible, and added, in an 
insolent tone, that it was not his business, he being 
only the ship carpenter. This refusal roused Hud- 
son's long-suppressed temper ; with reckless volubility 
he heaped abnsive epithets upon the offending sailor, 
drove him from the cabin, and threatened to hang 
him. Henry Green took part with the carpenter, 
which still further excited Hudson's anger. A few 
hours of reflection brought regret to the carpenter, 
and, with the promptness of an honorable, generous 
nature, he returned to obedience, although its require- 
ments were at variance from his own judgment, and 
immediately began the erection of the house. He 
remained, to the end, Hudson's warmest friend. With 
Green, this quarrel was but the sure betrayal of his 
baseness ; presuming upon it, he disregarded the or- 
ders of his superior, in taking a gunning excursion. 
During his absence, Hudson gave to another sailor a 
gown which he had promised to Green, seeking thus to 
show his displeasure towards the young man, who 
evinced his ingratitude for past kindness, and at a time, 
too, when he himself was harassed with cares and 
disappointment. Green resented the transfer of the 
expected gift, when Hudson imprudently and harshiy 
reproached him, telling him that " all his friends would:- 



240 DISCOYEKICilS AKD nONEEES OF AMERICA. 

not trust him with twenty shillings, and, therefore, 
why should he? As for wages, he had none, nor 
should have, if he did not please him well." These 
words were like a poisoned arrow in the heart of the 
half-reformed vagrant. All the fair resolutions he 
had ever entertained, vanished, and from that mo- 
ment, he yielded to the guidance of his evil angel — 
the spirit who exultingly reenters the heart from 
which he has been partially expelled, " and taketh 
with him seven other spirits, more wicked than 
himself." 

The winter passed away, giving no other employ- 
ment to the men than an exhausting and continued 
search for food and fuel. Doubtless, the drift-wood 
that had floated from unknown regions, could some- 
times be hewn from its frozen bed ; for voyagers often 
speak of this available fuel, which is dashed and 
ground against icy rocks till it sometimes ignites and 
sends up smoke and flame in the midst of the dreary 
sea. The very extremities, too, to which the sailors 
were driven, in consuming fat substances, such as are 
deemed luxurious among the Esquimaux, yet are re- 
volting to us, sustained them more effectually against 
the cold than if provided with their own accustomed 
food. Nothing else generates an equal degree of heat 
in the animal system ; the provision of such nutri- 
ment in the whales, bears, and seals of rigorous cli- 
mates, and the appetite with which even a temporary 
inhabitant craves oily food, are striking illustrations 



HENKY HUDSON. 2±l 

of the exercise of a Divine plan, and the supervision 
of a wise and benevolent God. 

The only human being seen by the Discovery's 
crew during their long imprisonment in the bay, was 
a savage, whom they gladly welcomed, and loaded 
with presents. He left them well pleased, and, in a 
few days, returned with a sledge laden with deer and 
beaver skins. Strangely enough, he gave back all 
the presents he had received ; but Hudson insisted 
upon his retaining them, and purchased one of the 
deer-skins. He promised, upon his departure, to 
bring some of his people, when he came again ; he 
was never seen afterwards, and the hope of obtaining 
provisions through him was reluctantly abandoned. 
As the ice began to break up, a small supply of fish 
was secured, and by scanty allowance, they managed 
to exist till spring. 

By the middle of June, the ice was sufficiently 
broken to permit the egress of the ship. Before sail- 
ing, Hudson distributed to his crew the last of the 
provisions, about a pound of bread to each man, 
" and, knowing their wretched condition, and the un- 
certainty of what might befall them, he also gave to 
every man a bill of return, which might be showed 
at home, if it pleased God that they came home, and 
he wept when he gave it to them." Three days of 
sailing launched them into the midst of far-extending 
ice-shoals, and there they were forced to cast anchor. 
To add to Hudson's perplexity, some of the men had 
voraciously eaten all their bread, and were clamoring 
K • . 16 



212 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

for more. Some cheese was found and divided amonsr 
tliem. Suspecting that certain of his men had con- 
cealed provisions, Hudson declared that all their 
chests should be searched, and ordered one sailor to 
bring all he had in store. He obeyed, bringing for- 
ward a bag containing thirty cakes. The occurrence 
greatly exasperated the most discontented of the 
crew, and they immediately perfected their murder- 
ous plots. 

At midnight, they assembled, and determined upon 
the destruction of their commander, and all who were 
friendly to him. One Pricket, to whom they unfold- 
ed their plans, entreated them to desist from the dark 
crime they were about to commit; he reminded 
them of their wives and children at home, who would 
shrink from them as murderers, and of the ignomini- 
ous end they would bring upon themselves. Green, 
who, of all others, should have shielded his benefac- 
tor, told the conscientious sailor " to hold his peace," 
and that he "would rather be hanged at home than 
starved abroad." Finding such entreaties useless, 
Pricket urged them to delay the execution of their 
design for three — for two days — for one, even ; but 
the hardened wretches refused. Indignant at their 
brutality, he reproached them with blood-thirstiness, 
and with revenge, rather than a regard for the safety 
of the ship and of themselves, wdiich was the alleged 
reason ; for, the only offense they imputed to Hud- 
son, was his irresolute conduct, and the errors which 
lie had committed from the beginning of the voyage. 



HENKY HUDSOK. 243 

In reply to these reproaches, Green seized a Bible, 
and swore with a hypocrisy equal to his villainy, 
that " he would harm no man, and what he did was 
for the good of the voyage, and nothing else." The 
following oath w^as then taken by all, at Pricket's 
persuasion : " Tou shall swear truth to God, your 
Prince, and country ; you shall do nothing but to 
the glo3y of God, and the good of the action in 
hand, and harm no man." His last effort to restrain 
them by this solemn oath, proved useless. 

Meanwhile, Green went to Hudson, and pretended 
friendship and affection, and left with him an impres- 
sion of reformed resolutions, and quieted any suspi- 
cions he might entertain of the meditated mutiny. 
But a few hours remained to perfect their plans. 
Daybreak was fixed upon as the time of execution, 
and it came quickly enough. At the first glimpse 
of morning, they began their work. As Hudson 
came up from his cabin, he was seized and bound. 
His son followed, together with a sailor who was 
Hudson's avowed friend. The ship's boat was now 
hauled alongside, and they were thrown into it, to be 
set adrift, and abandoned to a lingering and horrible 
death. Had the work of these murderers ceased 
here, it might be attributed to the untaught and un- 
checked impulses of a revengeful temper ; but, with 
a cold-blooded cruelty that scarcely has its parallel 
among civilized beings, they now called up those of 
their companions who were sick or lame in their 
berths, and placed them, also, in the open boat. 



244 DISOOVEREES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

Henry Green was foremost in the Satanic work, roll- 
ing oath after oath from his lips, as he thrust the pale 
and disabled sailors over the ship's side. Pricket 
once more interfered, entreating them upon his knees, 
" for the love of God, to remember themselves, and 
do as they would be done unto." But they only 
laughed him to scorn, and ordered him back to the 
cabin. 

Eight men now occupied the little shallop, with 
nothing to shield them from the tempest, nothing to 
satisfy their hunger and thirst, and nothing by which 
to guide the frail boat to a place of security. The 
carpenter, who was permitted to remain on ship- 
board, could not endure the cruel sight, and, rather 
than see his master perish thus, he declared that he 
would cast his lot with him, and save him yet, if he 
could. The same noble spirit that could acknowledge 
and repair an error, was capable of the generous risk 
of life in saving that of his commander. The touch- 
ing contrast with his own wickedness must have smote 
the heart of Green, if he had not already fully yield- 
ed himself to the power of the Evil One. Being 
free in his choice, the carpenter supplied himself with 
tools, a gun, some powder and shot, an iron pot, a 
small quantity of meal and other provisions, and bid- 
ding farewell to Pricket, with tears in his eyes, he 
leaped into the shallop which was yet dragging at 
the stern. 

The ship was now loose from the ice. The anchor 
was weighed, the sails hoisted, and a fair ivind floated 



HENEY HUDSO]Sr. 245 

lier towards the strait by whicli the mariners had en- 
tered. When she had reached a nearly clear sea, the 
rope holding the boat was cut, and Hudson, with his 
son, his brave friend and the six feeble sailors, were 
left to the mercies of an Arctic sea. The murderers 
turned, unrelenting, from a last glimpse of their vic- 
tims, who were helplessly rocking upon the waves, 
and crouching together to elude the keen, sweeping 
blast, that bore death upon its wings. The ship, un- 
der full sail, stood for the capes, skimming as swiftly 
and safely along as if she bore the good and the just. 
But God left the offenders to fill up the measure of 
their iniquity. They were fast gliding around in the 
converging circles of an eternal maelstrom, and, in- 
toxicated with their abandoned villainy, did not per- 
ceive the abyss into which they were soon to plunge. 
Having a long voyage before them, and being al- 
most destitute of provisions, it was necessary to land 
at the capes, and obtain whatever could be found. 
As soon as land was discovered, therefore, a boat, 
manned with five men, was sent ashore. Savages 
crowded to the beach, offering all the provision the 
sailors could desire, but in an unguarded moment, sud- 
denly attacked them. The agility of the sailors in 
springing to the boat, alone saved them from im- 
mediate death. As it was, three were mortally 
wounded, and unable to assist in rowing the boat be- 
yond the reach of a shower of arrows that darted 
after them. Green was struck, and instantly killed, 
while an awful oath was upon his lips. The rest 



216 DISCOVERERS AXD PIOXRERS OF AMERICA. 

reached the ship with difficulty. Two others of the 
number, who were most clamorous for the desertion 
of their commander and comrades, expired the same 
day from the eifects of poisoned arrows, cursing and 
raving till silenced by the fearful hand of Death. 
The three were committed to the same cold grave 
they had prepared for Hudson and their wronged 
shipmates ; and a fourth, equally wretched in his 
end, followed them to their icy bed, two days after. 
The remainder of the crew succeeded in gaining 
the Atlantic, and shaped their course for Ireland. 
For weeks, they were tempest-tossed, their ship disa- 
bled by storms, and themselves reduced to feeble 
skeletons by starvation. The skins of their last sup- 
ply of fowl, were voraciously devoured, and even the 
bones, fried in tallow, were every one consumed. 
The candles were now divided among them — one 
pound to each man, and, with only this morsel to sus- 
tain them, they had yet to count long miles, with 
only a crazy ship to creep over the surging ocean. 
At this crisis, Juet, who had been a close companion 
in crime with Green, but who was the best pilot re- 
maining, died in the agonies of remorse and starva- 
tion. His cries went up dolefully from the swaying 
ship. 'No one could give relief Each man, too 
weak to stand, sat silently at his post, gazing at the 
others' pale, stony countenances. They cared not 
where the vessel went, and they would sit helplessly 
" and see the foresail or mainsail fly up to the tops, 



HENET HUDSON. 247 

the sheets being either flown or broken, and ■would 
not lielp it themselves, nor call to others for help." 

While they thus silently' waited the coming of 
death, the joyful cry of "A sail! a sail!" roused 
their remaining strength. They watched its nearer 
approach with intense and painful eagerness, till their 
rescue was sure. It proved to be a fishing bark off • 
the coast of Ireland, whose crew had descried the 
tattered sails of the ship, and hastened to the relief 
of the forlorn mariners. They were taken into a har- 
bor, kindly provided for by the commander of the 
fishing bark, and finally succeeded in reaching 
London. 

Their arrival in England, and the history of the 
crimes and suffering of the voyage, produced a gen- 
eral feeling of commiseration and sorrow. The fate 
of one of England's most daring navigators, and the 
sudden closing of a career that had reflected honor 
upon his country, as a discoverer, excited so deep an 
interest that two ships were sent in search of him the 
following year. They returned, however, in a few 
months, unsuccessful. 

Hudson was probably a self-made man, and as 
such, deserves the high encomiums which history has 
bestowed. He was a fearless navigator and a man 
of generous sympathies, but he possessed neitlier the 
self-reliance and firmness requisite to the commander 
of a diflicult enterprise and a turbulent crew, nor the 
noble virtues which crown the memory of the truly 
great. His life-long, brave battle with Arctic hard- 



248 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

ships and lonely perils, commands a lasting admira- 
tion ; and his unknown, but certainly distreseing, 
fate, awakens the liveliest sympathy. Whether his 
bones rest in the bay that bears his name, or his dust 
has been scattered by fierce winds over the cold, 
northern wilderness, his name will live as long as that 
vast inland sea remains, and as perpetually as the 
Hudson River rolls through its mountain gates, and 
washes a city destined soon to be the mart of the 
world. 



JOHN SMITH. 

The hero of a French novel, the Aladdin of Arabi- 
an romance, or the adventures of a gipsej, could not 
exceed, in variety of incident, in strange escapes, or 
in eccentric feats, the remarkable life of this king 
of all John Smiths — the founder of Virginia. 

There is little of moral greatness in his character. 
He was comparatively free from vicious habits ; he 
was sagacious, energetic, and bold, but he was too 
erratic and fickle in his tastes, to harbor any fixed 
purpose. The same motive that impelled his wan- 
derings from London to Constantinople, from Paris 
to Alexandria, sent him to uncivilized America — not 
like the early discoverers, to extend the known limits 
of the earth, and add to the stores of science, nor 
like the northern settlers, to establish an Indian mis- 
sion, or to seek an asylum of liberty — but simply to 
gratify the love of a wild, roving life. Yet his name 
is a star in the constellation of his period — a star, 
brilliant to the chance-gazer, but flickering to the 
eye of one who seeks a pure and steady light of char- 
acter. 

K* 



250 DISCOVEKEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

Captain Smith was born in 1579, in Willoughby, 
England. While yet young, he was left an orphan, 
with a small property, in the care of guardians, who 
abused the trust. His propensity to wander was first 
exhibited at school, where he sold his books and 
satchel, and, with the proceeds, was about stealing 
away to sea, when he was deterred by the death of 
his father. His education was thenceforward neg- 
lected, and he was left to gain his knowledge of men 
and the world through his novel experience and acute 
observation. His guardian relatives accorded him a 
vagabond life, until he was old enough to enter upon 
an apprenticeship with a merchant of Lynn. The 
common-place duties, and the stability and diligence 
required of him, were at war with his inclinations, 
so that, without an adieu, he left his employer, and 
besran a reckless search after romantic adventure. 

Longing to visit foreign countries, he entered the 
service of the sons of Lord Willoughby, who were 
about to take the tour of the continent. Soon after 
their arrival in France, they dismissed him, giving him 
sufficient means to return to England. But the pic- 
turesque dresses of the peasants, their jesting and 
chattering, the charming groves and vineyards of 
France, and, above all, the gayet}^ of Paris, were too 
strong attractions to the youthful wanderer, for him 
to return to staid old England, and to the begrudged 
bounty of his relatives. He made his way alone to 
Paris, and there met a Scottish gentleman, who im- 
mediately interested himself in the young traveler. 



JOHN SMITH. 251 

Smith was, at this time, fifteen years of age. That 
hi« countenance was extremely pleasing, his manner 
spirited and graceful, his wit ready and promising, 
may be inferred from the advice given him by his 
Highland friend, which was, to become a courtier in 
the court of King James — the would-be Solomon. 
Nothing seemed easier, or more desirable, to the 
partial Scotchman. With the whimsical ardor of an 
enthusiast, he replenished the purse of his new-found 
protege^ wrote letters of introduction to his friends in 
Scotland, and, with hearty wishes for the young ad- 
venturer's success, saw him safely out of Paris. But 
with the benefactor, disaiDpeared all Smith's sincere 
intentions to find favor in the eyes of the Scottish 
monarch. Arrived at Rouen, new friends influenced 
him, and the sight of lively preparations for war in- 
duced him to try a soldier's life. He enlisted as a 
private, and, in a few days, was on his way to Havre 
de Grace. 

Four years in the wars of the ll^etherlands, 
though afifording his first military lessons, contribu- 
ted nothing to his needed stability. He found him- 
self as penniless and unknown as ever ; but, never at 
a loss for an expedient, he bethought himself of the 
letters of his Scotch patron, and immediately set out 
for the court of James. The vessel in which he sailed 
was wrecked upon the Holy Isle of Northumberland, 
and he narrowly escaped drowning, only to encoun- 
ter an equally dangerous illness. After several weeks 
of confinement, he succeeded in reaching Scotland, 



252 DISCOVERERS AJSTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

and presented the letters, which were expected to- 
launch him at once upon a promising career. In 
this he was disaj)pointed. He was hospitably and 
kindly received, but his good fortune extended no 
further. Too impatient to endure delay, and too in- 
dependent for a sycophant, he abandoned the notion 
of becoming a courtier, bade adieu to his entertainers, 
and returned to England, and to his old home at 
Willoughby. 

Handsome, graceful, soldierly in his carriage, lively 
and generous, abounding in foreign accomplishments, 
he was the Adonis of the village maidens, the wonder 
and dread of the awkward beaux, and the pride of 
the cousins who had turned him off, a vagabond boy. 
The first flush of pleasure at his flattering reception 
having passed, however, he became wearied of the 
profuse attentions of his friends, and quite disgusted 
with the " humdrum quiet of a country town." Pro- 
fessing himself tired of the world, he suddenly deter- 
mined to turn hermit — perhaps with the hope of ac- 
quiring the notoriety he had thus far failed to secure 
beyond his immediate circle. He concealed himself, 
as he says, "in woodie pasture, environed with many 
hundred acres of other woods," and there, " by a faire 
brooke, he built himself a pavilion of boughs, where 
only in his clothes he lay." In this retreat, lie 
amused himself like a knight-errant, with " a good 
horse, lance and ring." Two books, upon the art of 
war, were his only companions ; his food was chiefly 
the prohibited game of the forest. Of course, wonder- 



.TOIIN SMITH. 253 

ful stories were soon afloat among the peasantry, and 
it was not long before the attention of the neighbor- 
ing nobility was directed to the eccentric hermit. An 
Italian gentleman, employed by the Earl of Lincoln, 
was deputed to visit the "pavilion," and entice the 
recluse knight from his solitude, in which attempt he 
succeeded, after some weeks of occasional compan- 
ionship. 

Smith, soon afterwards, went to London. He was 
there imposed upon by four French rogues, who, by 
fair promises, induced him to accompany them to 
France. They embarked in a small vessel, the cap- 
tain of which was probably a smuggler. When arrived 
at St. Yalery, in Picardy, the four thieves were clan- 
destinely sent ashore at midnight, with the money 
and clothes of the deceived youth. Upon the discov- 
ery of the robbery, the passengers expressed their 
sympathy, and one of them took him under his own 
escort, provided him with means, and, when landed, 
introduced him to his friends, who received Smith 
with extraordinary kindness and hospitality. He 
finally found himself luxuriating at the princely seats 
of noblemen, but " such pleasant pleasures suited lit- 
tle with poore estate and restless spirit, that never 
could finde content to receive such noble favours as 
he could neither deserve nor requite ; " he left his 
generous friends, and roamed hither and thither, re- 
duced to extreme poverty. Li his wanderings, he 
met, in a wood, one of the French gallants, who had 
deceived him. Each, at the recognition, bared his 



254: DISCO VEEEES AND PI0NEEE8 OF AMEEIOA. 

weapon, without words. Smith was victorious ; and, 
in presence of people from a neighboring tower, 
obliged the vanquished man to confess his guilt. 

His acquaintance with the Earl of Ployer, soon 
after, and the friendship and interest of that noble- 
man, gave a new direction to Smith's perverted ener- 
gy and impulse. "With the design of joining the 
armies of Rodolph, of Germany, then at war against 
the Turks and their leader, the third Mahomet, he 
left the earl, who supplied him with means to embark 
at Marseilles, for Italy. All on board the vessel were 
Catholics, with the exception of Smith. The storms 
and perils of the voyage alarmed and excited them. 
Finding their Ave Marias and vows availed nothing, 
they turned their jealous eyes upon the heretic, deci- 
ded that he was the cause of their distress, and, like 
the chiefs of heathen Africa, or the simple Hindoo, 
determined to sacrifice him to appease the anger of 
their gods. He was, accordingly, thrown into the 
sea. Being an able swimmer, and with nothing of fear 
in his nature, he calmly made his way among the roll- 
ing billows, to the isle of St. Mary, not far distant, and 
off the coast of Savoy. Not a little exhausted by his 
battle with the waves, and dripping with his unwel- 
come bath, he obtained footing upon the lonely 
island, and found himself the penniless monarch of 
its barren limits, with the prospect of a Crusoe's life. 

He was quite capable of realizing such a life, but 
he had scarcely tested its pleasure, when a ship sought 
shelter there from a storm. The captain proved to 



JOHN SMITH. 255 

be a friend of tlie Earl of Ployer, and learning that 
nobleman's kindness to Smith, treated the picked-up 
outcast with studied generosity. The vessel was 
bound to Alexandria, in Egypt, and thither Smith 
went, reckless as to what quarter of the globe he 
journeyed, so that his preeminent desire to see the 
world, would be gratified. Fortune played with 
him, like the whirlwind with a leaf, frisking it 
here and there, drifting it into fair fields, turning a 
pirouette with it in the sand, or tossing it upon the 
waves only to catch it wp again. Smith yielded to 
circumstances ; he was as contented on a piratical 
cruise, as in the family circles of noblemen — as hap- 
py in an active campaign, as in a hermit's cell. He 
paid little heed to conscience; as to moral principle, he 
had none ; for when he found that Captain La Roche's 
intention was to capture a Venetian merchant-ship, in 
the Adriatic, for the spoil, he off'ered no objection, but 
engaged, with a good will, in the undertaking, fought 
obstinately, and shared the booty with the rest. 
Silks, velvets, gold tissue and jewels, were among 
the prizies. "Five hundred sequins and a box of 
jewels " were awarded to Smith; with these ill-gotten 
riches, he parted from Captain La Roche, and set out 
upon a tour of Italy. 

From Leghorn, to the ruins and palaces of Rome, 
where it was " his chance to see Pope Clement, the 
Eighth, with many cardinals, creepe up the lioly 
stairs," and from Rome to the bustling Neapolitans, 
Smith wandered — as much at home among the crowds 



256 DISCO VEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

of lazaroDi and mountebanks, beggars and bandits, 
at Naples, as in the companionship of young men of 
rank, in the papal city. "When at Yenice, the city 
of islands and of gondoliers, Smith found his sequins 
nearly exhausted. Satiated with the beauty and 
novelty of Italy, he remembered for what he had left 
France, and, with his usual comet-like movements, 
set out foi Eagusa, The broken coast of Dalmatia 
and Albania, where olives, figs, and Corinthian grapes 
were ripening in the sun, was quickly passed. Ea- 
gusa was soon left behind, and "poor Slavonia" 
crossed by the indefatigable traveler. ITow he wan- 
dered over green districts, which were every day re- 
plenished with fresh flowers, or where abundant har- 
vests rose under the vivifying influence of warm rains 
and a soft, Italian climate — and again he toiled over 
rocky hills, exposed to the cold blasts of the Bora. 
At last he reached Gratz, in Styria, the residence of 
Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria. He was not long in 
search of friends. An Englishman and an Irish Jesuit, 
interested themselves in him, and brought him to the 
notice of several distinguished noblemen of the army. 
He became one of the staff of the Earl of Meldritch. 
The journeys of the Zincali could scarcely be more 
erratic than those of Smith, from the time he left 
France till he accomplished his object of joining the 
armies of Eodolph. 

It is impossible, in the limits of these pages, to fol- 
low him in the various campaigns against the Turks. 
His ingenuity in devising signals and destructive fire- 



JOHN SMITH. "257 

works, not less than Ins valor, occasioned his promo- 
tion to the command of a company of horse. While 
the army of the Earl of Meldritch, and the forces of 
Prince Moyses, were before the city of Regall, pre- 
paring to besiege it, the Turks, fully prepared for the 
exigency, continually sent messages of derision, and 
finally, a challenge to single combat, from Lord Tur- 
bishaw. The Turkish ladies must have some amuse- 
ment, before the Christians were routed, said the 
boastful Mohammedans. The challenge was accepted, 
and the enthusiasm was so great in the Christian ar- 
my, to engage in the revival of ancient chivalry, that 
lots were cast for the honor. Captain Smith was the 
successful competitor. 

Upon the appointed day, the walls of Regall were 
crowded with the beauties of the harem, and the of- 
ficers of the Turkish legions. The army of the Chris- 
tians was drawn up in battle array, on the plain, to 
witness the contest. Lord Turbishaw presented him- 
self, in a gorgeous, jeweled dress, with silvered and 
gilded wings. Smith advanced, upon a spirited, well- 
trained steed, clad in armor, and, no doubt, richly 
plumed. A flourish of trumpets announced the on- 
set ; the combatants sprang towards each other, and, 
in an instant. Lord Turbishaw was stretched dead upon 
the earth. Smith leaped from his saddle, unloosed 
the helmet of the Turk, cut ofi' his head, presented it, 
amidst applause, to Prince Moyses, and retired in 
triumph to his own ranks. 

The Turks were incensed at the result, and a friend 

17 



o-> 



8 DISCO VTIEEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 



of the vanquished, Grnalgo, a powerful warrior, sent 
a second challenge. It was promptly accepted, and 
again Smith appeared in the field, in presence of the 
two armies, fought, conquered, and added the liead 
of Grualgo to his trophies. The Turks decided that 
the ladies had enjoyed enough of this brutal amuse- 
ment, and desisted ; but a challenge came now from 
the Christian camp, and tliej felt bound, by the laws 
of chivalry, to accept it. Bonny Mulgro was the 
chamjDion. His head against those of the two already 
slain, together with Smith's, was the stake. Bonny 
shared the fate of the others, and Smith returned a 
third time victorious. A splendid pageant, in his 
honor, a richly-furnished charger, a jewel-studded 
cimetar, a costly belt, and a patent of nobility, con- 
ferred by the Prince of Transylvania, were the re- 
wards of his bold feats. His coat of arms consisted 
of three Turks' heads upon a shield, with the motto, 
" Yincere est vivere''^ — " to conquer is to live." 

Not long after this. Smith was left among the slain, 
upon the field of battle. His rich armor readily at- 
tracted attention, and, as he gave signs of life, he was 
taken prisoner by his conquerors, and was sold in the 
slave market of Axiopolis, to Bashaw Bogall, who 
sent him in chains, as a present, to one of the beau- 
ties of his harem. Charatza Tragabigzanda quickly 
became interested in her handsome and gallant slave ; 
as she was able to converse in Italian, she whiled 
away many an hour, in conversation with the accom- 
plished Englisman. Her fondness of him was per- 



JOHN SMITH, 259 

ceived by her mother. Fearing the consequences, 
Charatza sent him away, with a letter, imploring for 
him the kindness of her brother, Timour Bashaw, 
whose residence w^as in Tartary, Smith's new mas- 
ter proved fierce and tyrannical. A short duration 
of vilest slavery exhausted his patience. He killed 
his Tartar lord, seized his robes and liis fine char- 
ger, fled across the desert, cleared the territories of 
the Musselmen, and safely reached a Russian garri- 
son, upon the river Don. 

Here the " Good Lady Callamanta " relieves his 
poverty, and the governor strikes off his irons, and 
gives him letters of introduction, and a convoy, for 
his protection, to Transylvania. In this district he 
meets with his old generals and companions, who 
welcome him, heap honors upon him, and bestow fif- 
teen hundred ducats of gold, to repair his losses. 
"With this sudden good fortune, he determines to re- 
turn to England ; but it is impossible for him to be 
satisfied with a direct route, and, accordingly, his 
"way to London leads him through the cities of Ger- 
many, among the singing Tyrolese, over the Alps, 
through vine-clad France, to the wild passes of the 
Pyrenees, the bandit forests, and old inquisitorial 
cities of Spain. The novelty of these exliausted, lie 
fancies he may find new adventures in distant Africa. 
Away he sails to the Barbary States, examines the 
monuments of Morocco, notes the characteristics of 
the country and people, and turns away indignant at 
their barbarism. The French captain of a man-of- 



'JfiO DISCOVEEEKS AJSTD PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. 

war here meets, and feels an extravagant admiration 
for Smith, takes him on board his vessel, and sets out 
upon one of the common piratical cruises of those 
times. 

Smith did not return to England till the year 1604. 
He was yet but twenty-five, though his life, thus far,- 
had equaled in eventfulness the ordinary experience 
of an hundred years. "With his roving habits, it was 
impossible for him to remain unoccuj)ied in England. 
The colonization of America was, at this time, a sub- 
ject of general interest. Smith had seen enough of 
Europe, Asia, and Africa ; the new continent was an 
attractive field, and offered the opportunity of more 
fearless adventure than he had already tested. He was 
easily enlisted in a project of renewing the unfortunate 
efforts of Raleigh. A patent was obtained from 
James I. by Gosnold, Wingfield, Hunt and others, 
for the settlement of Yirginia, and with this company, 
Smith sailed for America, December 19th, 1606. 
The colonists numbered one hundred and five — for- 
ty-eight of them being gentlemen, the rest laborers 
and mechanics. Many were atheists ; few were mor- 
ally strong ; none were possessed of the energy or 
decision of the soldierly Smith. Discontent, suspi- 
cion, and jealousy, prevailed throughout the voyage- 
Smith was seized, upon an absurd charge of treason, 
and kept in close confinement till they arrived in the 
Bay of Chesapeake. There, the opening of the strong 
box, in which the whimsical king had ordered the 
names of the council to be concealed, proclaimed 



JOHN SMITH. ' 261 

Smith a member, but lie was excluded till after a 
trial. He submitted patiently to all the indignities 
offered him, full j conscious of his superiority over his 
persecutors, and the necessity of his able services to 
the colony. 

The site of Jamestown was selected. Trees were 
felled, a fort commenced, rude cabins erected, gardens 
laid out, and all the hardy occupations of an early 
settlement fairly in progress. It was now necessary for 
some one to explore the river upon whose banks they 
had alighted, to acquaint themselves with the inten- 
tions of the neighboring Indians, and to obtain a sup- 
ply of provisions. There were few among the colo- 
nists sufficiently courageous for the undertaking, and, 
as Smith expected, he was designated, with a few 
others, to accompany- Captain Newport. His con- 
duct throughout thirteen weeks of confinement, and 
the six subsequent weeks of his cheerful assistance to 
the colony, won the confidence and esteem of the 
greater part of his enemies. Upon his return from 
the expedition, a trial was granted him, in which he 
clearly proved himself innocent of the malicious 
charges of President Wingfield, — a weak, jealous- 
minded man, from whose inefficiency half the trou- 
bles of the colony proceeded. 

Smith was finally placed at the head of affairs. All 
had confidence in his judgment and valor. Labor was 
briskly executed under his direction, discontent kept 
at bay while he shared the fatigue of the settlers, and 
famine was averted, by his prompt dispatches to the 



262 DISCOYERERS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

Indians. Often, in his boatings up tlie river, or in his 
forest ramblings, in quest of the Indian granaries, he 
found himself surrounded by savage bands, a mark 
for their merciless arrows. His fearlessness, on all oc- 
casions, made him prominent among his companions, 
and the dusky chieftains soon learned to dread his 
name. Upon his return to the colony, he found it 
the scene of faction and conspiracy. His prompt 
measures never failed to quell the disturbance, and his 
fierce determination of countenance and manner, se- 
cured peace so long as he remained, with ruling eye 
and voice, in the midst of the malcontents. Thus the 
summer and the autumn of the first year passed. 

The winter of 1607 was remarkably cold. But the 
severity of the weather did not deter Smith from an 
enterprise, to which the reproaches and complaints of 
his unruly colonists, seem to have urged him. They 
desired him to explore the Chickahominy to its 
sources, believing it would conduct them to ihe South 
Sea — the hoped-for achievement of the ambitious 
navigators of the day. Smith set out with a few men, 
and proceeded up the river as far as it was navigable 
for his barge. He then obtained an Indian canoe, 
with the services of two savages, and, selecting two 
of his bravest men, proceeded up the stream, unsus- 
picious, or regardless of danger, till the way was 
impeded by fallen trees and overhanging boughs, 
AVishing to see the nature of the country, and to dis- 
cover the width of the stream at a higher point, he 
left the two Englishmen and one Indian in the canoe, 



JOHN SMITH. 263 

and, with his single guide, plunged into the forest. 
The dead leaves rustled under their tread, and the 
wind swejDt through the bare trees, with the sound of 
a gale in the rigging of a thousand ships, or as if the 
boughs were hung with the rattling bones of skele- 
tons. Suddenly a loud war-Avhoop swelled above all 
other sounds. Smith knew its import too well, though 
not a human being was in sight, except his dusky 
guide. Sure that he was betrayed, he seized the In- 
dian and bound him fast to his own arm. An arrow 
whizzed through the air, and struck the hero captain, 
and now he perceived two savages peering at him 
with aimed shafts. In an instant, his Indian, used as 
a buckler, was interposed, his pistol discharged, and 
himself retreating backwards in the direction of his 
canoe, always keeping his captive an unwilling shield 
between himself and the gathering enemy. The war- 
cry echoed again through the woods, and soon a hun- 
dred foes flitted between the gray trunks, afraid to 
encounter his weapon, and unwilling to transfix his 
effective shield with arrows. Smith refused to yield, 
and still retreated. The warriors followed him, sure 
of their brave victim. Busy in his defense, he did 
not perceive the snare behind him. Another back- 
ward step and he sank into a morass, from which he 
could not extricate himself. He surrendered, and 
Opechancanough and his warriors drew hira forth and 
led him away a prisoner. Instant death was not to 
be awarded to the dexterous captive, in whom was 



264 DISCOVERERS AXD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

recognized the famed leader of Jamestown. His fate 
was to be decided by tlie emperor, Powhattan. 

The palace of this Indian sovereign was limitless. 
IS^ature was the unrivaled architect. Tulip-trees 
formed its graceful arches ; giant pines its columns, 
wound with living, rather than sculptured ivy ; and 
the sky its faultless dome. The throne of Powhattan 
was a couch of mats ; his crown, plumes from the ea- 
gle's wing ; his robe of fur, was as ample as a Roman 
toga, and his jewels of state were " a rich chaine of 
great pearles." His presence had the true royal 
bearing. Smith describes it of " such majestic as he 
could not expresse, nor yet had often scene, either in 
Pagan or Christians." Two Indian beauties sat on 
either hand of the haughty emperor ; and " grim 
courtiers," helmeted with scalp-locks and gaudy feath- 
ers, and armed with huge bows, and tufted arrows, 
surrounded the rude throne. Every one had assumed 
his choicest decorations, and his grandest demeanor, 
in expectation of the distinguished captive, whose ap- 
proach had been heralded by runners. 

Opechancanough and his scouting party presently 
appeared with the victim, who had been feasted du- 
ring his progress to the imperial residence, in prepa- 
ration for expected sacrifice. A simultaneous shout 
arose from the waiting assemblage and the newly- 
. arrived, as Smith was presented to the king. Princely 
honors were accorded him. The beautiful queen of 
Apamattuck brought water to bathe his hands, and a 
y-)ung maiden offered a bunch of feathers to dry 




POCAHONTAS SAVES THE LIEE OE CAPTAIN SMITH. 



Page Cfi\ 



JOHN SMITH. 2G5 

them. Others served him up a feast "upon great plat- 
ters. While he was thus entertained, the chieftains 
were in close counsel with Powhattan, as to the dis- 
posal of this brave sachem of the whites. His death 
was decided upon. Two stones were immediately 
rolled into the area before the royal seat, and fierce- 
eyed executioners stood ready with their war-clubs. 
A dozen leaped forward with a savage yell, and 
dragged the prisoner towards the spot. 

Among the group near Powhattan, was a child of 
ten years, the " king's dearest daughter," watching 
with keen interest the preparations, which even to 
her unused eye, betokened death. She saw the brave 
stranger dragged forth and bound, and none to de- 
fend him. Her sympathies were awakened; her 
pulse quickened, and a glow of ardor suffused her 
face ; suspense, fear, pity, were in her attitude. The 
victim was ready, the blow about to descend. "With 
the swift bound of the roe, the child sprang towards 
the prostrate form of Smith, threw her arms around 
him, and laid her head upon his. The noble impulse, 
the daring, the artless tenderness of the young girl, 
struck the savage assemblage with awe and admira- 
tion. Powhattan was overcome, and his decree that 
Smith should live, was acceded to without a murmur 
from those who, though their eyes were whetted for 
the bloody scene, forgot their passion in amazement 
at the rescue. They appreciated the bold temper, if 
not the beautiful spirit, that impelled Pocahontas to 
the humane deed. 
L 



266 DISCOVEKEKS AJSTD PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

Smith was detained for a few days, to gratify tlie 
curiosity of the Indians. He related his adventures, 
described the fleets upon the waters, the cities of the 
Old World, and the number and power of its inhabi- 
tants. The savages could scarcely have comprehend- 
ed the strength of European population, for, some 
time afterwards, one was sent to England with orders 
to register, by a notch upon a stick, every person he 
met. Finding the census outreached his stick the 
first hour, he threw it away, and, on his return to his 
people, said, " Count the stars in the sky, the leaves 
of the forest, and the sands of the sea shore — such 
is the number of the people of England." 

Smith was allowed to return to Jamestown, on con- 
dition he would give Powhattan two cannon and a 
grind-stone — articles which had especially captiva- 
ted the king's fancy. An escort of Indians accom- 
panied him to the colony, and to these he offered the 
coveted guns and grind-stone. They endeavored in 
vain to shoulder the weighty gifts, and, when Smith 
applied a torch to one of the loaded cannon, the poor 
Indians, terrified at the report, were glad to fly from 
the bewitched pieces, and return empty handed. 
Smith was greeted by the colonists as one risen from 
the dead. As had often been the case, he found the 
settlement in a factious and starving condition. And 
as he had often done before, he straightened affairs 
and procured abundant supplies from the Indians, 
who now regarded him as a superior being. The ar- 
rival of Captain Newport, however, again produced 



JOHN SMITH. 267 

discord. His search for gold dust provea unfortu- 
nate to the colony, in various ways. His departure 
was not regretted. 

The spring of the next year was occupied in re- 
building Jamestown, as it had been nearly destroyed 
by fire during the winter. Frequent excursions to 
Powhattan's dominions, or those of neighboring chief- 
tains, occurred during the summer, and gifts and vis- 
its were often received from the young Pocahontas, 
who, not forgetting her favorite, came to express her 
afi'ection for the fatherly captain, and sometimes to 
avert evil from him and his. JS'ot only the fickle pol- 
icy of Powhattan, but the hostility of other chief- 
tains, frequently endangered the existence of the set- 
tlement — a catastrophe repeatedly averted either by 
the humanity of the faithful Pocahontas, or the vigi- 
lant activity of Smith. He negotiated with the In- 
dians, in their own spirit of cunning, and never scru- 
pled to employ untruths when it suited his purpose. 
As from time to time, they discovered his deceptions, 
his superiority was lessened in their eyes, and they 
battled with him as they would with a brave warrior 
of their own race. He never, by his own upright 
dealing, awakened a sense of honor or justice, in the 
the mind of the savage — sentiments of which the 
humane Penn proved them capable. But Smith's 
courage and strength was such that he was generally 
feared. At one time, the natives were in the habit 
of entering the town, and possessing themselves of 
whatever articles struck their fancy. When the theft 



268 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEKKS OF AMERICA. 

was discovered, tliey endured a beating with as much 
nonchalance as a Chinese beggar. One of them hap- 
pened to meddle with some of the captain's weapons. 
He pounced uj)on them like an enraged tiger, drove 
them from the town, and sent them flying over the 
hills in fright. If he ever had occasion to doubt the 
good faith of a party of Indians, he would dash into 
their midst with the same fierceness, seize their chief- 
tain by his scalp-lock, drag him to his own men and 
parley with the astounded savages, while he had their 
sachem in his power. So great was their fear of him 
that Powhattan, in a speech full of reproach at the 
attempts of the English to obtain " by force, that 
which they might quickly have by love," confessed 
that even at the sound of a breaking twig, his people 
cried out, " There cometh Captain Smith ! " 

Upon the return of Captain IN^ewport from Eng- 
land, the distrust of Powhattan increased. He had 
brought with him a crown, a cloak, and a royal couch, 
for the forest monarch, but the receiver, so far from 
showing pleasure at the gifts, feared to wrap his 
swartliy form in the scarlet cloak, and would not qui- 
etly submit to a coronation, which he believed beto- 
kened evil. Captain ]^ewport only succeeded in 
drop]3ing the kingly circle upon his brows, when four 
soldiers had forced the proud chieftain to bend the 
knee. The lavish bestowal of articles which, previ- 
ously held at high value, had secured an abundant 
exchange of grain to the colonists, was a source of 
much trouble to them. Smith expostulated with tho 



JOHN SMITH. 2G9 

new comers, and, as he expected, great difficulty was 
experienced in obtaining supplies for the returning 
voyage, as well as for the present need of the en- 
larged colony. 

The infatuated Newport did not gain what he de- 
sired by his presents — the friendship and assistance 
of Powhattan. He was fully bent upon seeking gold, 
and, with one hundred and twenty of his men, 
searched the wilderness, while Smith, now President 
of Jamestown, proceeded, with ninety men, to load 
the vessel, that it might be in readiness at JSTewport's 
return. Many of the new comers were gentlemen — 
" younger sons " of the nobility, and, of course, un- 
used to the labor of backwoodsmen. These, Smith 
conducted to the woods, placed implements in their 
hands, and taught them the art of felling trees, ma- 
king clap-boards, and how to endure a hardy life. 
Tliey began with a good will, since Smith wielded his 
axe with the rest ; but a few strokes blistered the fair 
hands of the amateur wood-cutters, and " many times 
every third blow had a loud othe to drown e the 
echo." To prevent the use of language which never 
sullied his own lips, Smith caused an effectual pun- 
ishment. For every oath uttered during the day, a 
can of cold water was poured down the sleeve of the 
offender. A week sufficed to check the profanity. 
"When ISTewport returned unsuccessful from his expe- 
dition, he found the vessel loaded and provided for 
his departure, through the untiring exertions, and 
skillful supervision of Captain Smith. 



270 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

After this, several occurrences contributed to estab- 
lish peace between Powhattan and the English. An 
Indian liad apparently died from. the ignorant use of 
charcoal. By simple methods, Smith restored him to 
life, to the surprise of the savages, who believed him 
gifted with a miraculous power. Other circumstan- 
ces, trifling in themselves, served to inspire the na- 
tives with awe. Many stolen articles were returned, 
and Powhattan entreated peace. For a long time 
succeeding, the colony flourished to an unusual degree. 
Under Smith's vigorous direction, twenty new houses 
were built, the church repaired, two block-houses 
erected, and the live stock greatly increased and im- 
proved by care. Provisions were abundant, and the 
Indians punctually and cheerfully assisted them, in- 
structing the English how to prepare and plant their 
fields. But this happy peace and prosperity was in- 
terrupted by the arrival of a large fleet from England, 
which brought nine hundred persons. Most of them 
were profligate and inefficient men, under the juris- 
diction of several noblemen, who had engaged in tiie 
enterprise. Newport had misrepresented Smith to 
the authorities in England, and he found supporters 
of his ungenerous charges, in the factious persons 
whom the president had dismissed from the colony. 
Their arrival was the signal for discord and misfor- 
tune. Smith battled manfully with the difficulties 
that daily presented themselves. But his patience 
was exhausted, and he began to think of abandoning 
the colony or at least meditated a return to England, 



JOHN SMITH, 271 

for a time, to urge upon his countrymen the necessity 
of selecting hardy, persevering men, and adopting 
measures unbiased by jealousy or deceit, to secure 
the establishment of a flourishing republic. His pur- 
pose was quickened by an accident, which nearly 
proved fatal to his life. While passing in his boat 
down the river, towards Jamestown, a bag of gun- 
powder exploded, and frightfully mangled and la- 
cerated the person of Smith. He threw himself 
into the water, in the delirium of pain, and was bare- 
ly saved from drowning. No surgeon in Jamestown 
was skillful enough to heal his wounds ; he found it 
necessary to embark for England. In the autumn of 
1609, he sailed from Yirginia, never to hail its shores 
again. 

After his return to his native land, several years 
were pleasantly spent in retirement and literary 
labors. He published a map of Yirginia, in 1612, 
together with a " description of the country, the com- 
modities, people, government, and religion." Verse- 
making was also among his occupations. In 1614, he 
engaged in an enterprise, which had for its object, the 
seeking of gold and copper mines in !New England, 
in addition to whale-fishery. He had two ships in 
the service, and was absent six months. The next 
year, he attempted a second expedition with but one 
vessel. Misfortune attended him from the outset. 
He was successively chased by three pirate ships, and 
finally by a French man-of-war, which overcame his 
insignificant bark. He was taken prisoner, and re- 



272 DISCOVERERS .VKD I'T(iNEi:KS OF AMERICA. 

"mained sucli for six months, when, on a stoi'my night, 
he possessed himself of the ship's boat, and, without 
an oar to guide it, committed himself to the wide 
waste of stormy waters. He was providentially cast 
upon an island, where he was soon picked up. The 
ship he abandoned was wrecked, and the captain and 
half of the crew were lost. Smith succeeded in reach- 
ing France. The sympathy of some of his country- 
men there, and the assistance of a French lady, Mad- 
ame Chanois, enabled him to return to England. 

In 1616, Captain Smith was preparing for a third 
voyage to l!^ew England. A lively interest in the 
New "World was occasioned, at this time, by the arri- 
val of the beautiful and famed Pocahontas. Her pre- 
sentation at court, her novel style of beauty, her art- 
less manner, and the noble heart that was known to 
exist beneath her gentle exterior, were themes for 
every lip. The tidings of her coming reached Cap- 
tain Smith, and he immediately went to welcome 
her. The sight of him was a surprise to the young 
princess, for she had been made to believe that he 
was dead. But, with true Indian' stoicism, she gave 
" a modest salutation," and, perhaps grieved at the 
reserved manner of him who owed his life to her, and 
who knew she revered him above all others of his 
race, she turned away, hid her face and remained in 
silence. She could not comprehend the injunction 
of the king, that every one. Smith included, should 
approach her with a distant deference to her Indian 
royalty. She was disappointed at the seemingly cold 



■^ 



JOHN SMITH. 273 

greeting of the captain. The remembrances, too, that 
his face called up — the grand, wild forest, where she 
could wander at will ; her doting father, her compan- 
ions, her wigwam-home, and the young braves, who 
were swift to do her bidding — all floated before her 
memory ; and perhaps it was these overpowering 
recollections, as well as the j)resence of one loved 
from childhood, that made her shroud her face from 
the gaze of strangers, and remain in mute grief for 
hours. She died among the pale-faces. The broad 
sunlight of civilization wilted the wild flower that 
had blossomed in the shade of Virginian forests. 

The year succeeding this event, 1622, was remark- 
able, in New World annals, for the massacre at 
Jamestown. Captain Smith, excited and nerved for 
new efforts, endeavored to enlist others in an attempt 
to restore the settlement. He could not remain inac- 
tive, and behold the town, which had risen from the 
wilderness by his own unceasing diligence, abandoned 
to the pillage of savages, and the desolation of time. 
But all that he had done for Yirginia, all that he had 
suffered in her service, all that he had written for 
the furtherance of that plantation, was of no avail. 
Changes came round with every year. The interests 
of the American colony passed into new hands. The 
services of Smith were forgotten. He could obtain 
no appointment, nor did he receive any reward, 
though in poverty ; yet, for nine years he continued 
to write and publish works concerning the New 
L* 18 



274 DISCOVEEERS AJfD PI0NEEE8 OF AMERICA. 

World, and interested himself in every movement for 
Its colonization. 

He died in 1631, in his fiftj-second year, disap- 
pomted, but not subdued. His sagacity, his fierce 
will, his quick perceptions, his executive mind, should 
have crowned his declining years with success; but 
his several desperado qualities, and the lack of stabil- 
ity and of Christian spirit, made his old age and his 
memory as mournful as the broken, ivy-mantled tower 
yvUth IS all that remains of the city which he found- 
ed — a bold and picturesque ruin. 



VII. 

MILES STANDISH. 

Captain Miles Standish was called the hero of 
New England, by one of the earlier colonial histo- 
rians. His relation to Plymouth and the Pilgrims, 
has been compared with that of Captain John Smith 
to the land of the cavaliers — Yirginia. And cer- 
tainly, though he may not have left a name for greater 
moral heroism and loftier qualities of mind than many 
of his fellow-Pilgrims, yet his character and deeds 
more readily engage the imagination. While no one 
of the many noble settlers at Plymouth was very emi- 
nent above the rest, Standish was peculiar, in his po- 
sition and his traits. At first glance, it is hard to 
explain his connection with them. Descended from 
a family in whose veins coursed noble and martial 
blood, trained to military service in England and 
Holland, distinguished somewhat for his brave con- 
duct in the latter country, and with a fair prospect of 
promotion before him, he seems to have suddenly 
abandoned an alluring career, in order to attach him- 
self to a poor and persecuted band of religionists. 
What were his real motives, and what his part, in 



^ 4 O 



DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OP AMERICA, 



laying the foundation of our civil and religious free- 
dom, must be gathered from the imperfect records of 
his life. 

The earliest mention of his family, is durino- the 
- mgn of Henry YIIL, when it was represented by 
Henry Standish, a bigoted Franciscan bishop, and a 
Cambridge Doctor of Divinity. In Queen Mary's 
time, the bishop's nephew violently opposed the trans- 
lation of the Bible into the English language. After 
an interval of many years, and during the life of Cap 
tain Standish, Sir Richard is mentioned; also, the 
village of Standish, and Standish Hall, in Lancashire 
In 1707, Sir Thomas lived at Duxbury, the name of 
the family seat in Lancashire, and as Captain Stand- 
ish was one of the first settlers of Duxbury in Massa- 
chusetts, it is reasonable to presume the former to 
have been his English home, and that the new town 
was named in remembrance of his early associations. 
The first exercise of his military talents, was in the 
]^^etherlands, in a war in behalf of the Dutch -the 
same in which Raleigh was engaged. Upon the set- 
tlement of a treaty. Captain Standish remained at 
Leyden, with the Pilgrims. Amsterdam had been 
their first resting place. A portion of the original 
church had preceded them, and, for a time, existed 
harmoniously under the rule of grave and godly eld- 
ers, and the quaint superintendence of an aged dea- 
coness, who, seated upon a bench of state, and sway- 
ing a birchen scepter, kept the unruly urchins of the 
congregation in awe ; but this simplicity and harmo- 



MILES STAJSTDISH, 277 

nj j)resentlj gave place to a quarrelsome, mad spirit. 
Among them were " some unreasonable, if not wick- 
ed men, given to oppositions of self-will and vain 
j anglings about mint, anise, and cummin, how many 
ribbons a woman should wear upon her bonnet and 
other like things." The strife was carried so far 
against the pastor's wife, for wearing corked shoes, 
and whalebones in the bodice and sleeves of her 
dress, such as were then worn by citizens of rank 
with whom she had been accustomed to associate, 
that, although she was an exemplary and " godly 
matron," and submitted to their prejudices so far as 
to alter her garments as much as possible without al- 
together spoiling them, yet they would not accord 
peace to her, to themselves, nor any one concerned. 
Several excommunications resulted, which only served 
to heighten the disturbance. 

It was in the midst of this war of words, that Rob- 
inson and his devoted band arrived, fresh from the 
persecutions of England, hoping to find rest, and 
yearning for kindness and brotherly love. But one 
year's stay convinced them of the unhappy influence 
of narrow-minded bickerings ; and, although Amster- 
dam was best suited to their worldly prosperity, they 
decided to remove to Leyden, valuing peace and spir- 
itual comfort above every thing else. The witness- 
ing of those contentions, without being a party to 
them, left a lasting and salutary impression upon the 
minds of the Pilgrims. It was a lesson to which 



278 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

they owed much of the forbearance afterwards exer- 
cised towards each other, and towards the world. 

At Leyden, they soon felt the approach of poverty ; 
for, having been farmers in England, they were ill-pre- 
pared to gain a livelihood among the mechanics of 
Leyden. " Brewster became a printer ; Bradford 
learned the art of dyeing silk," and, in time, by "be- 
ing careful to keep their word, and painful and dili- 
gent in their callings," this faithful band acquired " a 
comfortable condition, grew in the gifts and grace of 
the spirit of God, and lived together in peace and 
love and holiness." So entirely harmonious were 
they, that the magistrates of the city publicly noted 
the fact that, during the eleven years of their stay, 
not an accusation had been brought against them. 
All Holland loved and admired them. 

It is not wonderful that one, coming from the vio- 
lence, the debauchery, of war, and the infidelity and 
blasphemy common among soldiery, should be struck 
with the beauty and simplicity of the Pilgrims' creed, 
and the sincerity in which they held it. It was 
so with Standish. Integrity was one of his chief vir- 
tues, else he could hardly have been attracted to the 
upright brotherhood. And, once attracted to them, 
his generous nature could not withhold its sympathy 
for their sufferings and povertv nor could he witness 
their cheerful endurance without admiration and love, 
or behold their daily, unostentatious faith in Christ, 
without reverencing their religion, and their God. 
He did not unite with their church, but he was so 



MILES STAiroiSH. 2Y9 

■won by " their humble zeal and fervent love towards 
God and his ways, and their single-heartedness and 
sincere affection, one towards another," that, whatev- 
er had been the ambition of his youth, he abandoned 
it, and cast his lot with his exiled countrymen. 

To the worldling, his choice of sojourn with the 
Pilgrims is unaccountable ; to the Christian, it is a 
beautiful ordering of Providence, giving thus to the 
chosen people of God, a leader whose qualities emi- 
nently fitted him to become their champion in tht 
dangers of the wilderness. Possessing remarkable 
energy and decision of character, and accustomed, as 
no other one among the Pilgrims was, to the usages 
of war, he was a " host within himself ; " and, though 
full of martial spirit, his fine appreciation of their 
principles never arrayed him against themselves. He 
had reached the maturity and stability of manhood 
before he became one of the persecuted band. He was 
short, and thick-set, in person, but carried an air of 
promptness, activity, and of command, that enforced 
obedience. Although qualified to become the milita- 
ry leader of the future colony, he joined them with 
no such ambition, for they voyaged with more of the 
talismans of peace than the weapons of war. Stand- 
ish was necessary, in the hands of God, to the preser- 
vation of the New England colony. Thus, uncon- 
sciously, he was under the guidance of the Almighty 
in his choice. 

The emigration of the Pilgrims to America, was 
long a subject of discussion and prayer. They had 



•280 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

never become familiar with tlie language and man- 
ners of tlie Dutch. The general desecration of the 
Sabbath was painful to them, and they feared the 
effects of such example upon their children ; for the 
islanded city, with its wide streets, lively with prom- 
enaders, and its intersecting canals, bordered with 
trees, and spanned by innumerable and beautiful 
bridges, had a peculiar temptation, on a sunny Sab- 
bath, to the pent-up, laboring children of the Pilgrims, 
who, " sharing their parents' burdens, bowed under 
the weight, and were becoming decrepit in early 
youth." They were longing, too, to live again under 
the government of their land. America was chosen ; 
but where, upon its broad expanse, to select an ad- 
vantageous home, was long the subject of discussion 
and negotiation. The "West Indies and Guiana were 
talked of. The Dutch offered then* newly discovered 
possessions on the Hudson ; the London Company 
proposed South Yirginia, and the merchant adventu- 
rers, North Yirginia, which included the whole of 
New England. The last was accepted, the others ha- 
ving failed to obtain a charter from King James, for 
liberty of conscience. The Pilgrims determined to 
cast themselves upon Providence, and consented to 
depart without a patent, leaving agents to obtain it 
from the Company, whether freedom of worship was 
accorded by the King, or not. 

Two ships, the Speedwell, of sixty tons, and the 
May Flower, of one hundred and eighty tons, were 
prepared for the embarkation, but could not accom- 



IkllLES STANDISH. 281 

modate more than half of the congregation, which 
had greatly increased in numbers since their removal 
from England. Kobinson remained with the majori- 
ty of his flock, while Brewster, already numbering 
nearly sixty years, and who was " able as a teacher," 
"was chosen to accompany the youngest and the hard- 
iest who were ready to undertake the hardships of the 
first settlement. 

" When the ship was ready to go," says "Winslow's 
journal, " the brethren that stayed at Leyden, having 
again sought the Lord with i;s, and for us, feasted us 
that were to go, at our pastor's house, it being large, 
where we refreshed ourselves, after tears, with sing- 
ing of psalms, making joyful melody in our hearts, 
as well as with the voice, there being many of the 
congregation very expert in music ; and, indeed, it 
was the sweetest music that ever mine ears heard. 
After this, they accompanied us to Delft-Haven, where 
we went to embark, and then feasted us again ; and 
after prayer, performed by our pastor, when a flood 
of tears was poured out, they accompanied us to the 
ship, but were not able to speak one to another for 
the abundance of sorrow to part. But we only, going 
aboard, gave them a volley of small shot and three 
pieces of ordnance ; and so, lifting up our hands to 
each other, and our hearts for each other, to the Lord 
our God, we departed." 

In a fortnight, they reached Southampton, and then 
sailed for America. They were obliged to return to 
Dartmouth for repairs, which detained them another 



282 DISCOVERERS AND PIOXEERS OF AMERICA. 

week. Again they set sail, and again returned, tlie 
captain of the Speedwell declaring she was not fit for 
the voyage. Those who had embarked in her, were 
crowded into the May Flower, and they now bade a 
last adieu to England, beginning the perilous and 
lonely voyage on the sixth of September, 1620. The 
generous and zealous Carver, the unobtrusive, virtu- 
ous "Win slow, Brewster with his strong fortitude and 
fervent prayers, Bradford with his moderation and 
wisdom, the discreet Allerton, and the bold, saga- 
cious, whole-souled Staudish, with the no less courage- 
ous numbers of young men, full of zeal and energy, 
and their pious matrons, and young wives, ready to 
endure untold sufferings, were together breasting the 
fierce storms of the Atlantic, in one little bark, 
" freiffhted with the destinies of a continent." 
Through all the voyage, they cheered and consoled 
each other, always looking to God with the same un- 
doubting trust with which a tender child turns to its 
father, in danger. 

The frosty, cold, November days had come, before 
the Pilgrims had the first glimpse of their western 
home. They espied land on the ninth of the month, 
and, as they neared it, were consoled to find it " wood- 
ed to the brinke of the sea." The}'- judged rightly 
that they beheld Cape Cod, with its circling bay, 
" compassed about to the very sea with okes, pines, 
juniper, sassafras, and other sweet wood." The coast 
in the vicinity of Hudson. River, was their intended 
landing-place, but their captain, probably by conni- 



MILES STANDISH. 2S3 

vance, brought them upon the more bleak and uninvi- 
ting shores of New England ; happily, as it proved, for 
the whole region, as if by a special preparation of 
Providence, had been lately swept of its savage pop- 
ulation, by a fearful pestilence. There was no clus- 
tering of natives upon the shore, to greet or to re]3el 
them. Yet, they hesitated to land, for, as they round- 
ed the bay, not an inviting spot presented itself for 
landing or for shelter. At length they anchored in 
Plymouth harbor. Dr. Cheever describes it, at high 
tide, as a "magnificent bay, studded with islands, 
and opening proudly into the ocean ; but, at low tide, 
an immense extent of muddy, salt-grassedj and sea- 
weeded shallows, with a narrow stream winding its 
way among them to find the sea." The Pilgrims 
looked with doubt upon the prospect before them, but 
the impatience of the captain to land them, and has- 
ten back to England, gave them no choice. 

Sixteen men, cased in coats of mail, and armed 
with musket and sword, were placed under the con- 
duct of Captain Standish, with a council of three, to 
reconnoitre the coast. The shallop being out of re- 
pair, they were forced to wade through the icy shal- 
lows, for three quarters of a mile, before reaching 
land. And there it was desolate enough, with the 
sharp, cold wind sweeping and moaning among the 
tattered foliage, that still clung to the dry, rattling 
oranches ; before them was the open wood, with here 
and there an Indian trail, but no human being in 
sight ; behind them the broad, cold bay, gloomy un- 



i?8-l- nscovmrs aj^t> noKr.rr;S or AjrEEiCA. 

der a leaden I^ovember sky, and rocking upon its bo- 
som the single treasure tliat still linked them to " dear 
England." 

"With stout hearts and a good will, they formed in 
single file, and marched along the sea-coast, till, at- 
tracted by a glimpse of five or six Indians, flitting 
through the woods, they turned into the forest, hoping 
to overtake them. All day they traveled, but not a 
sign of habitation was yet discovered, nor had they 
sight of the natives. At night they slumbered around 
a camp-fire, guarded by three sentinels. As soon as 
they could again perceive the trail, they resumed their 
march, yet could neither find the Indians and their 
homes, nor the food or fresh water which they greatly 
needed. After struggling through " boughes and 
bushes, and under hills and valleys," says the journal 
of the Pilgrims, " which tore our very armour in j^ee- 
ces, . . we came into a deepe valley, full of brush, 
wood-gaile, and long grasse, through which we found 
little paths, or tracks, and there we saw a deere, and 
found sj)rings of fresh water, of which we were heart- 
ily glad, and sat us downe and drunke our first JVew- 
England water, with as much delight as ever we 
drunke drinke in all our lives." 

"Wandering farther, they found mounds of buried 
corn in baskets, an iron kettle, the remains of a fort, 
and, near the shore, two canoes. "When the mounds 
were opened, and the corn exposed to their glad eyes, 
they gathered around, full of curiosity, but hesitated 
to possess themselves of it. With pious honesty they 



MILES STAJSTDISH. 285 

counseled with each other. Believing they wronged 
no one, they decided to take it, promising themselves 
to repay the owners, when they could be found. This 
intention they faithfully fulfilled afterwards. The in- 
tegrity of the act, must have impressed the natives 
more forcibly than a thousand exhortations could 
have done. Bearing with them as much corn as tlie 
weight of their armor would permit, they turned sea- 
ward by a different route. In their wanderings, they 
came to a young sapling " bowed downe over a bow, 
and some acorns strewn underneath." Some per- 
ceived its use, but William Bradford came up from 
the rear, and, impelled by curiosity, walked around 
it, and finally quite near, when it gave a " sudden 
jerk up, and caught him by the leg," to the chagrin 
of the entrapped, and the merriment of the rest of 
the party. The same day they returned to the ship. 
The snow, and sleet, and frost of December had 
come, before a harbor and a desirable site had been 
selected. Exploring parties, under the sturdy Cap- 
tain Standish, had frequently gone ashore. They of- 
ten searched for corn in tlie many mounds that 
swelled under the snow, but graves, graves, nothing 
but graves, with embalmed bodies, and their heathen 
decorations, rewarded their efforts, and these they 
carefully replaced, or left untouched, unwilling to 
disturb the repose of the dead, or the superstitious 
reverence of the living. ]^o sight of the natives had 
been obtained until, one morning, at early dawn, 
while they sat around their camp-fire, regaling them- 



286 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

selves with a simple meal, a shower of arrows fell 
around them, and a frightful yell sounded in their 
ears. Springing to arms, they aimed as well as they 
could at the lurking savages, whose glistening eyes 
here and there peered out, like the flaming eyes of 
wild beasts, from behind the sheltering trunks of the 
forest trees. The unprepared Pilgrims presented a 
fair mark, standing as they did in the broad fire-light, 
and without the protection of their armor. Yet not 
one was wounded in the skirmish, while several of 
the Indians were killed. It was a remarkable pre- 
servation — a protection which they had invoked from 
the Almighty scarcely an hour before, according to 
their invariable custom. Prayer was the first duty 
of the morning, no matter what the pressing labor. 
"Whether in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower, or 
in the open forest ; whether in the exposed "shallop, 
or by the camp-fire"; whether the morning broke mild 
and cheering, or the hail pelted, the rain chilled, or 
the snow blinded and benumbed them, they yet yield- 
ed their morning prayers, like daily incense, to God, 
never doubting the acceptance of the sacrifice. 

The Sabbath was as faithfully kept. Though the 
advancing season, the severity of the climate, the 
importunity of the captain, and the discomfort of the 
narrow and unhealthy quarters on ship-board, de- 
manded a speedy settlement, not a Sabbath was des- 
ecrated by labor. On the tenth of December, Cap- 
tain Standish, with a number of hardy explorers, en- 
tered Plymouth harbor, after coasting several miles 



MILES STAKDISH. 287 

in a rough sea, and through blinding sleet. As night 
approached, the storm increased, the boat was disa- 
bled, and they were in danger of being dashed against 
an island in the bay, " compassed about with many 
rocks." They at last effected a safe landing, but drip- 
ping with the rain and salt spray, shivering with cold, 
and not knowing but they might receive a greeting 
of arrows. All night they kept watch, and the next 
morning explored the island, and found themselves its 
sole possessors. They remained still another day, and 
that was the Sabbath — the first kept by the Pilgrims 
on the soil of the New World. Houseless and com- 
fortless, with no sanctuary but the gray woods, hung 
with icicles, these men, strong in endurance, and firm 
in faith as the rocks they trod, " children in obedi- 
ence " and gentleness, rested the seventh day and 
hallowed it. 

" Amidst the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea I 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free." 

On Monday, the eleventh of December, the pio- 
neers landed on Plymouth rock. In a few days, the 
May Flower was anchored in the bay, a mile and a 
half from the shore, and those who were able to la- 
bor, went on shore to gather timber, and to build 
their store-house, barricades, plant their ordnance, and 
erect the little row of houses on each side of the 
newly laid-out street, named for the " pleasant and 



288 DISCOVEKBRS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

goodly city " of Ley den. The work progressed slowly, 
for death was fast winnowing out their numbers. 
Obliged, as they had been, to wade from the ship to 
shore, and continually exposed to the wintry storms, 
rapid and mortal disease fastened upon them. Suf- 
fering from the hectic cough and wasting fever of 
consumption, they still labored on manfully, during 
the drfving storm, as well as in the sunshine, welcome 
enough with its vivifying light, but scarcely less fa- 
tal than the piercing wind, when it left every tree a 
fountain of water-drops, and innumerable rivulets 
coursing every way over the paths of the laborers. 

The two rows of houses, with their thatched roofs 
and windows of oil-soaked paper, were at length com- 
pleted, insignificant in themselves, but palaces to the 
sick and unsheltered Pilgrims. They were safely 
nestled in the shadow of the " great hill," now called 
Burial Hill, upon which a fort was erected, which 
served, also, as the " meeting-house." Below them 
was the first terrace where their dead were laid in 
unmarked graves, for even the mounds were leveled, 
to hide the fact of their diminishing force, from the 
eyes of lurking Indians. They had reason to fear the 
savages. The exploit of Hunt, in carrying oflT twenty 
Indians into slavery, a year or two previous, had ex- 
asperated them against the English, and their con- 
cealed and suspicious movements indicated a spirit of 
revenge. Often their infuriated yell resounded in the 
forest, awakening fresh anxiety in the hearts of the 
feeble colony, and, as often. Captain Standish, with a 



MILES STANDISH. 25') 

few of the boldest spirits, scoured the woods for miles 
around, to know the extent of the danger, but inva- 
riably returned without discovering the foe. Had the 
spirits of the dead hosts come back to their old hunt- 
ing ground, they could not more successfully have 
flitted to and fro, and vanished with more unearthly 
screams, than did the tormentors of the Pilgrim 
settlers. 

The peril, toil, and suffering of the colonists, were 
rendered more painful by the depressing loss of 
nearly half their number. Yet these bereavements 
were scarcely chronicled by the Pilgrims. Every 
other event was noticed in the journal. Governor 
Bradford's register alone contained the mournful list ; 
and " it was like a book of sad engravings from a 
forest of tomb-stones." Eight deaths were recorded 
in January ; the last reads thus : — " Jan. 29. Dies 
Rose, the wife of Captain Standishy She is said to 
have been the first person who was debarked from 
the May Flower. The Journal says only, against the 
same date, ■" In the morning, cold frost and sleete, but 
after, reasonable fayre ; both the long Boate and the 
Shallop brought our common goods on shore." Thus 
death went and came without disturbing the routine 
of labor, however heavy the weight of grief. To the 
frank, loving, and noble-hearted Standish, it must 
have been a poignant sorrow, the deeper because of 
the knowledge that the comforts of life were want- 
ing, and that his companion was often deprived of 
his presence, when she longed for his soothing voico 
M 10 



290 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

in the midst of the din of the dark, crowded cabin. 
Neither, probably, had he the Christian's support 
which imparted unflinching fortitude to his fellow- 
sufferers. He must go and bury his dead, almost 
alone, and leave no mound to mark her resting-place 
— and no record to the world, but the simple sen- 
tence — " Dies Rose, the wife of Captain Standish." 
"The only relic of the wife and mother" that re- 
mains to us, says a writer, " is that piece of needle- 
work by the daughter, preserved among the curiosi- 
osities of Pilgrim Hall." 

Early in February, a fresh alarm from the Indians 
decided the colonists to adopt some methodical action 
for greater security. They accordingly assembled 
on the seventeenth, to establish military orders. 
Standish was elected captain, with the authority to 
command in all affrays. While engaged in organi- 
zing this first militia company, their attention was at- 
tracted by two savages, standing conspicuously upon 
a hill-top, and making signs for the white men to meet 
them. Captain Standish, accompanied by Stephen 
Hopkins, went towards them, laying down their mus- 
kets in sign of peace ; but they had scarcely reached 
the foot of the hill before the frightened natives fled. 
Nothing further was seen of them, although the 
sounds from behind the hill indicated the presence of 
many more. 

The sixteenth of March, the colonists again assem- 
bled, to complete their military organization. "While 
thu-S engaged, a sudden alarm brought the whole of 



MILES STAl!fDISH. 291 

the little population to their doors, and caused no lit- 
tle agitation among the half-formed militia. A tall, 
straight savage, of bold carriage, wearing only a 
leathern girdle, edged with broad, falling fringe, and 
armed with the great Indian bow and headed arrows, 
stalked up the narrow street, directly towards the 
" Kendezvous," without a motion of fear. He was the 
first native the Pilgrims had seen within speaking 
distance ; and we can readily imagine the anxiety 
with which the staid matrons looked out from the 
door-ways of their thatched domicils, half shrinking 
with fear, yet held by curiosity ; the little round fa- 
ces, full of terror, eagerly thrust out from the crowd 
of gowns, to catch a glimpse of the " bug-a-boo " man 
of the woods ; and the busy colonists, taken aback 
by the sudden apparition of the fearless intruder, 
finally following him up the street, and arresting his 
progress towards their store-house. 

" Welcome ! " was the manly salute of the savage, 
when the English intercepted and gathered round 
him. He freely communicated to them all he knew 
of the surrounding tribes, being able to speak broken 
English, from his frequent contact with fishermen, 
who for years had touched upon the coast. He re- 
turned to his tribe the next day. Soon after, and 
upon the Sabbath, he came again, with " five other 
tall, proper men," as the Journal says, who wore man- 
tles of deer or wild-cat skin, their heads being dressed 
with feathers, worn fan-shape, or decorated with dan- 
gling fox-tails. They brought skins for traffic, but 



292 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF A:sn:ilICA. 

the colonists refused to barter with them, it being the 
Sabbath. After they were kindly entertained, they 
returned to their tribe of Massasoits. 

A happy understanding soon followed. "While the 
men of the colony were assembled on public business, 
Samoset and Squanto came among them, and endeav- 
ored to signify the wish of Massasoit to parley with 
them. Massasoit himself finally appeared upon an 
overlooking hill, with his chieftain brother and all his 
warriors. A brook glidad at the foot of the hill, and 
there Captain Standish, with half a dozen chosen 
musketeers, met the friendly overtures of the Indian 
king. Massasoit was conducted to a house nearly 
finished, and given a seat of honor beside the Gov- 
ernor, upon a green rug, and a few cushions. He was 
a tall, well-made man, grave and silent ; and differed 
from his followers only in wearing a heavy, white 
bone necklace, with a pouch of tobacco hanging at 
the back of his neck. He was entertained with the 
best the poor colonists had to ofier ; but, in spite of 
his gracious reception, he trembled like a leaf, while 
in such close proximity to the governor. This inter- 
view resulted in a long-kept treaty, and was followed 
by frequent exchanges of friendly visits and services. 

Soon after this league, one of Massasoit's sachems 
and a few disaffected ones, threatened to unite with 
the Narragansets, against the English. It was ru- 
mored that he had killed Tisquantum, who was called 
" the tongue of the English," as he was their princi- 
pal interpreter. To rescue him, if he yet lived, and 



MILES STAISTDISH. 293 

to ascertain what had occurred to Massasoit, who, ac- 
cording to report, was in the power of his enemies, 
a company of ten men was selected bj Captain Stan- 
dish and marched to the neighborhood of the rebel 
sachem. They concealed themselves till midnight, 
and then surrounded the house of the chieftain. A 
few entered and demanded Coubitant, the rebel and 
supposed murdei-er, to be delivered to them, promis- 
ing none other should be harmed, and endeavoring 
to calm the fears of the women and children. The 
Indians were dumb with fear, and attempted to es- 
cape. They were retained until the house was 
searched, but Coubitant was not to be found. Tis- 
quantum was shown unharmed, and in the morning 
the colonists returned, after assuring the savages that 
if Coubitant and his men should continue their 
threats, or not permit Massasoit's safe restoration to 
his domains, " there was no place should secure him 
and his from revenge and overthrow." Coubitant 
was intimidated and soon signed a treaty of peace. 
He was equally impelled to seek peace with the En- 
glish because of an assurance from Squanto, that they 
had the plague buried in the store-house, and could 
send it among the Indians whenever they chose. He 
had seen the gunpowder buried there. 

While Standish engaged, from time to time, in bold 
exploits, which made his very name a terror among 
the Indians, he did not forget a gentler tenor of life, 
but wooed another wife to his cheerful fireside. It 
is amusingly related of him, that his affections were 



294 DISCOVEEEKS AND PIONEERS OF AlIEEICA. 

gained by a daughter of William Mullins, named 
Priscilla, but that he was unwilling to make the ne- 
cessary proposal, and deputed his friend, John Alden, 
to make the dreaded overtures. " The messenger, 
though a Pilgrim, was young and comely, and the 
lady, with perfect naivete, expressed her preference 
by the question, 

' Prithee, John, why do you not speak for your- 
self? ' 

The captain's hopes were blasted, and the frank 
proceeding soon ended in the marriage of John Al- 
den and Priscilla Mullins." Whether Captain Stan- 
dish forgave this usurpation or not, he consoled him- 
self soon afterwards by marrying a lady whose name, 
other than Barbara, is not given, and who had lately 
arrived in the ship Ann. This marriage occurred 
within two years after the death of Rose, as in the 
assignment of lands in 1623, the name of Mrs. Stan- 
dish is on the list. 

In 1622, the fortifications of Plymouth were com- 
pleted, and a militia company completely organized. 
The fort, which also served as a place of worship, was 
built upon a hill that overlooked the town and the 
harbor, with its wooded and rocky islands, and the 
range of dark pine forest ridging up from the sea on 
the south-east. The fort and its Sabbath uses, are 
well described in a letter (found in the archives of the 
Hague) by one who was at Plymouth in 1627. " The 
fDrt," says the letter, " is a large, square house, with 
a flat roof, made of thick, sawn planks, stayed with 



MILES STANDISn. 295 

oak beams, upon the top of which they have six can- 
nons, which shoot iron balls of four or five pounds, 
and command the surrounding country. The lower 
part they use for their church, where they preach on 
Sundays, and the usual holidays. They assemble by 
beat of drum, each with his musket or firelock, in 
front of the captain's door ; they have their cloaks 
on, and place themselves in order, three abreast, and 
are led by a sergeant, without beat of drum. Behind 
comes the governor, in a long robe ; beside him, on 
the right hand, comes the preacher with his cloak on, 
and on the left hand the captain, with his side-arms, 
aud cloak on, and with a _small cane in his hand — 
and so they march in good order, and each sets his 
arms down near him. Thus they are on their guard, 
night and day." 

In the spring of 1623, Standish was engaged in a 
trading voyage near Barnstable. While in the har- 
bor, a violent storm obliged him and his party to take 
shelter in the huts of the savages. The suspicious 
movements of the latter induced him to keep watch, 
permitting only part of his men to rest at once. In 
the morning, several things were ascertained to have 
been stolen from the shallop. With his usual resolu- 
tion and promptness, Standish immediately surround- 
ed sachem lanough's house with his force of six men, 
and demanded restitution. The articles were re- 
stored, and the English continued their traffic without 
further molestation. By exercising this fearlessness 
and decision, in his intercourse with the Indians, 



296 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMEEICA. 

Standish secured their submission, and kept tlieni in 
awe ; but even such a course would have failed to 
save the colonists, had they not at the same time ex- 
hibited a strict integrity and Christian forbearance. 
The savages instinctively felt this superiority of the 
Pilgrims. Their intercourse, however, with the un- 
principled and reckless colony at Weymouth, lately 
established there by Weston, served to create a deep 
hostility towards every pale-face on their shores. 

Their plot of extirpating the English, by uniting 
all the tribes of Massachusetts Bay against them, was 
upon the point of execution when discovered to the 
Plymouth colony. The kindness and soothing atten- 
tions of the good and brave Edward Winslow, sent 
by the Pilgrim settlers to visit Massasoit in his sick- 
ness, won the gratitude, and warmed the heart of the 
rude savage, and turned him from his purpose of sanc- 
tioning the massaci'e. " l!^ow I see the English are 
my friends, and love me," said he, when Winslow left 
him. " While I live, I will never forget this kind- 
ness they have shown me." Habbamock, the Indian 
guide and friend of the settlers, was with Winslow. 
Massasoit called him and revealed the plot, secretly 
bidding him to warn the Pilgrims. With what hasty 
steps the good Winslow, and the faithful guide, trav- 
ersed the forest, and how gladly they beheld the little 
village, with its peaceful aspect ! What commotion 
in the assembled court, when the two entered with 
the tidings ! It was the yearly court-day, the twen- 
ty-third of March, 1623, and the colonists wert ready 



MILES STANDISH. 297 

to discuss prompt measures. It was decided " that 
Captain Standish should take as many men as he 
thought sufficient to make his party good against all 
the Indians in the Massachusetts Bay ; and because 
it was impossible to deal with them in open defiance, 
to take them in such traps as they lay for others." 
He was ordered, also, to bring back the head of Wit- 
tuwamat, a " bold and bloody villain," who was one 
of the chief conspirators. 

Standish selected eight men, and wont first to Wes- 
ton's colony, to ascertain the certainty of the Indians' 
hostility. A few came to trade with him, and dis- 
covered " by his eyes that he was angry in his heart." 
Others came and whetted their knives before his face. 
Wittuwamat bragged ef the excellence of his knife, 
saying, " By-and-by it should see, hy-and-hy it should 
eat, hut not speak.'''' Another giant savage looked con- 
temptuously upon Standish, telling him, "Though 
you are a great captain, yet you are but a little man ; 
though I be no sachem, 1 am a man of great strength 
and courage." The hot-tempered caj)tain bore it with 
patience then, but the next day half a dozen of the 
lost hostile Indians, including Wittuwamat and the 
.ostile giant, were accidentally shut in the room with 
Standish and his eight men. Standish "gave the 
word to his men," and instantly the parties were 
struggling, hand to hand, with their deadly knives. 
Standish, probably not \Yithout a feeling of revenge 
for the sneer of yesterday upon his stature, himself 
gave the powerful Indian his death-stroke. The rest 
M* 



208 DISOOVEBEES A^D PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

killed Wittuwamut and another man, and a third was 
hung. The party of Indians in the neighborhood 
were put to flight, after a short skirmish, and the col- 
onists returned to Weston's people unharmed. Hab- 
bamock exulted over the victory, smiling, as he said 
to Captain Standish, "Yesterday Pecksnot bragged 
of his own strength and stature, . . to-day you 
are big enough tt lay him on the ground." 

Corn was distributed among the famishing colo- 
nists of "Weymouth, though it took from the seed-corn 
of the Pilgrims, and many of them were received into 
the shallop and conveyed to Plymouth. Thus good 
was returned for the evil they had rendered to their 
neighbors. The head of Wittuwamut was conveyed 
to Plymouth, and set up on the fort. The whole 
transaction, though often a matter of censure, was 
conducted with such decision, soldierly intrepidity, 
and exact obedience to orders, that it inspired the In- 
dians with terror for the very name of Standish, and 
at once checked every hostile movement. However 
revolting or murderous seemed the act, it was far 
better to execute the ring-leaders, than to engage in 
a war which must have proved disastrous to the Pil- 
grims, and sacrificed a far greater number of the 
heathen savages. When the account reached Mr. 
Eobinson, at Leyden, he wrote, that " it would have 
been happy if they had converted some before they 
had killed any." But the Pilgrims were too much 
occupied with their sufferings and their dangers, to 
think of carrying the tidings of a Saviour among their 



MILES STAiroiSH. 299 

enemies. Keither did they seem to think tlie savages 
capable of comprehending sacred truths. The work 
was left for Eliot and Williams. 

In 1625, Standish went to England, as an agent for 
the colony, but arrived at a time when London was 
desolated by the plague. Business was suspended, 
and the members of the New England Council were 
scattered. He could do nothing but procure neces- 
sary goods for the colony, and return, bearing with 
him the sad tidings of Robinson's death. This event 
was the more deplored, by the colony, because they 
had yearly hoped for his arrival, and, with that ex- 
pectation, had provided themselves with no pastor. 
Brewster officiated in that capacity, but they needed 
the guidance of the fervent Robinson. It is refresh- 
ing to note the vigor and faithfulness with which the 
Sabbath and all religious observances were kept, des- 
pite the prolonged separation from their pastor, when 
compared with the weakness, the falling away, that 
attends the same circumstances in this age of security 
and comfort. 

In his latest letters, Mr. Robinson urged the col- 
onists to " consider the disposition of the captain, who 
was of a warm temper. He hoped the Lord had sent 
him among them for good, if they used him right." 
In this they were rightly warned, for the vigorous 
captain had little patience with the slow measures of 
prudence. But he was so ready to risk himself in 
any hazardous enterprise, of whatever nature, so suc- 
cessfully inspired the drooping colonists with courage, 



oOO mscovEiiEKS A2su rio:\'E";:iis of America, 

and observed the orders given him with such strict 
fidelity, on all occasions, that they could not but re- 
pose confidence in him, as a leader. Resolute, 
prompt, and exacting the same integrity and fidelity 
from others which he himself never failed to render, 
he secured the love and trust of his fellow-Pilgrims, 
and filled the Indians with fear and admiration of his 
intrepid gallantry. " If the arm of flesh were neces- 
sary," says Dr. Belknap, "to establish the rights, 
and defend the lives, and protect the property of col- 
onists in a new country, surrounded with enemies and 
false friends, certainly such a man as Standish, with 
all his imperfections, will hold a high rank among 
the worthies of ISTew-England." 

The colonists signified their esteem and confidence, 
by appointing him one of the magistrates of Plymouth, 
as long as he lived. And, although advanced in 
years, he was, in 1645, appointed to command the 
Plymouth troops against the ISTarragansets, and, in 
1653, when hostilities with the Dutch, in Manhattan, 
were anticipated, he was one of a council of war, and 
received the command of the troops intended for the 
service. Thus, in spite of the infirmities of old age, 
Standish continued active in the employment of the 
colony. 

His winters were spent in Plymouth, but Duxbury 
was his summer home. He was one of the first set- 
tlers of the town, which now straggles along the 
shore for several miles, He lived at the foot oi" a 
summit, still known as Captain's Hill, which rises 



/ 

MILES STAUDISH. 301 

some two hundred and fifty feet above the level of 
the sea, and commands a complete view of Plymouth 
Bay. Far out in the bay, opposite Duxbury, a strip 
of drifting sand sweeps from the north, interposing 
a barrier against the thundering surges of the At- 
lantic. Clumps of cedars, here and there, relieve its 
barrenness, and wild bushes fringe the low sand-hills 
that face the harbor. Between this interposing beach 
and the main-land, lies the green, rounded island, 
■which first felt the pressure of the Pilgrims' steps, and 
which Standish could always look out upon, whether 
it rose in summer luxuriance from the lake-like har- 
bor, or whether it wore an icicled robe, as when he 
first beheld it. He must have marked it gladly from 
his quiet home, so long as his dimming eyes could be- 
hold it, and, if he had learned anything of godly life, 
in his long sojourn with the Pilgrims, he must have 
praised God while he gazed upon it, and recounted 
the providences that had signally followed them from 
their earliest coming, and preserved them through 
famine, war, and disease, till the germ of civilization 
was rooted and nourished into a lithe young sapling. 
"What holy joy would they feel, could they now be- 
hold it towering into the great tree of liberty ; its 
branches, banyan-like, rooted to the very shores of 
the Pacific, and dropping its golden fruit in the laps 
of the many sister states of a continent ! Would that 
the frrat which is fair without and bitterness within, 
were nowhere gathered from its branches ! 

Standish died in 1656, leaving three sons and a 



302 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

daughter, wliose descendants chiefly reside in the 
county of Plymouth. One of his grandsons preserv- 
ed his coat of mail for some time, but it is now sup- 
posed to be lost. His sword, an iron pot, and a pew- 
ter dish, are the only articles of his that remain 
among the treasured relics of the Pilgrims. A me- 
mento of his daughter is with them — a faded sampler, 
upon which is traced, with skillful needlework, tJi)ese 
characteristic and quaint lines 

"Lorea Standish is my name. 
Lord, guide my heart that I may do thy will : 
Also fill my hands with such convenient skill. 
As may conduce to virtue void of shame ; 
And I will give the glory to thy name." 

These relics are enough to bring to the eye the 
stout Miles Standish, with his honest, yet determined 
countenance, his gentle, pious daughter, and her pu- 
ritanic companions, and the strong band of Pilgrims, 
as they suffer and rejoice together ; as they fast with 
tears and prayers of faith ; as they feast upon the 
homely fare on the yearly Thanksgiving ; singing 
hymns of praise in the barricaded meeting-house, or 
sternly warning back their enemies ; joying at the 
first bridals, or weeping over the many dead. We 
see the remaining fifty bravely struggling with accu- 
mulated sorrows ; we watch them drop away one af- 
ter another, when the work for "which God had 
brought them there, is finished. We see the well- 
tried and upright Winslow, Bradford, with his crown 



MILES STAOTDISH. ' 303 

of honorable years, and the valorous Standish, go to 
the grave almost together. And, at last, we behold 
twelve lingering npon the borders of eternity, long 
enough to perceive the prophetic signs of a great and 
free nation, and then we note the fall of one and an- 
other, and another, till the last link between the olden 
time and the new is broken. There they all lie, now, 
upon the Plymouth hills, where their anthems of 
praise rang up, and echoed in the wilderness. Nor 
least among them is their brave leader, who, as is 
said by an old historian, " chose to suifer affliction 
with the people of God ; who, through faith, subdued 
kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, 
stopped the mouths of lions, waxed valiant in fight, 
and turned to flight the armies of the aliens." To 
the last, he was the firm, steadfast friend and protec- 
tor of the Plymouth colonists, and, as such, his name 
descends with honor to posterity. 



vm. 
LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 

A SHINING and delicate sliell, cast by the surges of 
ocean upon some bleak shore ; a tropical plant of rare 
beauty, flowering and fading amidst the snows of the 
wintry north ; a diamond, or a drop of gold, gleam- 
ing among the stern rocks of a lofty sierra — are em- 
blems of the life of high-born Arabella, tossed, as it 
was, upon the tide of Time's commotion, and trans- 
ferred from the luxurious scenes of her childhood to 
the companionship of heroical Pilgrims, and the chill 
hardships of a !New England settlement. ■ The records 
of her life are few and scattered ; but enough may be 
gathered to present a beautiful contrast of grace and 
loveliness, with the rugged simplicity of colonial ad- 
venture. Her name is a monument of the power of 
domestic affection and religious principle over all the 
attractions of refinement, of proud position, and the 
ties of blood, on the one hand, and, on the other, the 
triumph of these principles over all feminine dread of 
perils of the sea, and of a strange wilderness, made 
doubly fearful by the supposed ferocity of its savage 
inhabitants. 



L/\JDy ARABELLA .fOHNSON. 305 

In Nottinghamshire, between the Trent and the 
Ejre, with the flats of Lincolnshire on the one side, 
and the Derbyshire hills on the other, is the region 
of the ancient, royal forest of Sherwood. But few 
of the old oaks that sheltered Kobin Hood and his 
merry foresters, remain ; those few stretch their knot- 
ted limbs over the smoothly-shorn lawns of the wide 
parks, into which that storied and historical region is 
divided. The ancient road, where the green archers 
waylaid sordid friars and portly arch-bishops, still re- 
tains its old windings, with a new title — " the Duke- 
ries " — so named, because it is bordered by the am- 
ple domains of seven of England's proudest nobles. 
Clumber Park, one of these broad estates, is the 
family seat of the Lincolns, o]* Dukes of ISTewcastle. 
The first earldom of Lincoln was bestowed by Queen 
Elizabeth upon Lord Clinton, then High Admiral. 
The third inheritor of the title, was the father of Lady 
Arabella. The fifth died without heirs, and the 
estates and earldom passed to a cousin, Francis Clin- 
ton, whose grandson, Sir Henry, engaged as General 
in the American war of the Revolution, and distin- 
guished himself, in the eyes of the British, by the 
capture of Charlestown, and more, in the eyes of 
Americans, by the evacuation of Philadelphia. The 
ninth Earl received the additional title of Duke of 
Newcastle, and was appointed keeper of Sherwood 
Forest. 

It may be inferred that, in this region of romance, — 
within sight of the battle-fields of the rival Roses, 

20 



306 DISCO V^EREES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

where many a clump of the famous forest yet crowned 
the unleveled knolls, summoning to the wanderer's 
fancy the whole troop of green-coated archers, busy 
with their feasts or plots under the deep shade — in 
a region, fertile and beautiful, broidered with the cur- 
ving Trent, the silvery Eyre, and the soft-named Dove 
and Idle, and picturesque in the many monastic 
ruins, dismantled castles, and far reaching views of 
old, walled towns, with their crumbling fortresses and 
towers — in a home, luxurious in its immediate scenes 
of gardens, groves, and smoothly aisled parks, and 
far more beautiful in its interior life of affection and 
piety — the Lady Arabella was tenderly reared. 

The large household of the Eai*l of Lincoln was 
eminently a pious one. The parade of nobility and 
the frivolity of wealth, could have entered but little 
into the home-life of a family from whicli came two 
of 'New England's first magistrates, and another, in 
whose name the Pilgrims' first j)atent was taken out ; 
a family from which two delicately bred daughters 
were permitted to go forth to endure the trials of the 
"New "World, as the wives of pious and untitled men, 
and who, with their fourteen or fifteen brothers and 
sisters, had been, from their birth, under the guidance 
and nurture of a conscientious mother. The Countess 
of Lincoln published a work, condemning the unnat- 
ural course of mothers of her rank ; and, to exemplify 
her sentiments, nourished the infancy of her children. 
She guarded their development of character, with her 
prayers and tender admonitions. It is easy to believe, 



LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 307 

even were there no proofs, that she reaped the pre- 
cious fruits of her faithfulness, and that her large 
household was pervaded by the ruling spirit of Chris- 
tian love. 

Both the Earl and the Countess sympathized with 
the Pilgrims in their desire to emigrate to America. 
Mr. John Wincob, a gentleman of the family, was 
engaged in obtaining a patent for the Leyden exiles, 
and succeeded, in 1619, although the grant was not 
made use of, owing to their unexpected debarkation 
on the shore of Plymouth. America was then made 
an exhaustless theme at the fireside of the Lincolns. 
The recent discoveries there, the retreat it offered from 
religious persecution, its wild beauty, as pictured by 
Kaleigh, its fertility and attractions, as represented by 
Hudson, and its strange, savage possessors, were all 
freely discussed by the guests of the castle, and with 
deep interest by the family, since one of their at- 
taches was about to test the advantages and terrors 
of the New World. 

The death of the Earl, in 1619, withdrew, for a 
time, the attention of the Countess to the family du- 
ties, which more signally devolved upon her in her 
widowhood, together with the hospitalities incumbent 
upon her, as the dowager of a noble house. The 
young Earl and his bride, the daughter of Lord Say, 
now bore the honors of the succession. But there 
was not one of the household so precious, or so con- 
soling to the bereaved Countess, as the gentle, tender- 
hearted Arabella. Her remarkable loveliness of per- 



SOS DISCO YEEKES AlsD PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

son, as well as of character, her bright, glad temper- 
ament, that threw sunshine in the way of the surliest, 
and her unaffected piety, of the hopeful, active kind, 
had especially endeared her to her father. He had 
entertained ambitious hopes of seeing her united with 
one of rank and power, and filling a station suited to 
her unusual grace and beauty. But, taught by her 
mother to revere strength of soul and purity of char- 
acter, more than mere position, it was natural that 
she should yield her hand to an untitled lover, who 
embodied her high ideal, rather than sacrifice her 
happiness to ambition. 

The one who aspired to this honorable marriage 
was Isaac Johnson, a gentleman connected with fam- 
ilies of high rank, but who had no title in possession 
or expectancy. He had fine estates on the sloping 
hills of Rutland, in the meadows of Northampton, 
and upon the wolds of Lincolnshire. Which of the 
estates was enlivened by the manor-house, the some- 
time home of Arabella, is not recorded. 

Mr. Johnson has been described a^ a "contempla- 
tive character, serious in his dej)ortment, with an ex- 
pression of thought on his mild countenance, which 
the beholder, at first glance, would have termed sad- 
ness. Yet his heart was warm and frank ; and, when 
in intercourse with his friends, he threw ofl' the re- 
serve, which proceeded more from depth of feeling 
than a want of sympathy with his fellow-creatures, 
few were so agreeable, or so beloved in society as 
this amiable man." The same attraction that made 



LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 809 

Mr. Johnson tlie idol of the company with whom he 
emigrated, won his guileless bride. The doting father 
could ofler no obstacle, and the good mother could 
desire nothing better for her best-loved daughter, than 
to see her the wife of a man of refinement, cheerful 
piety, generous sympathies, and devoted affection — 
an affection so entwined with the very existence of 
Arabella, that he could not live without her, but 
mourned himself to the grave in one short month, 
after she had found her resting-place upon the shores 
of ISTew England. 

The earl's consent to the marriage had been given, 
and, the year following his death, Arabella was uni- 
ted to Mr. Johnson. Several years of tranquil hap- 
piness passed in their new home. The interest which 
both, for a long time, had felt in the success of the 
Pilgrims, was heightened, from time to time, by ac- 
counts from America. These, though setting forth 
the hardships and the novelties of their new, free life, 
made little or no mention of the severer sufferings, 
and the mortality among them. Many of the perse- 
cuted Puritans still remained in England, longing to 
join the pioneer band at Plymouth, but were too poor 
to meet the necessary expenses. Kow and then, a 
ship was chartered, and a few hastened over to re- 
lieve and to augment the colony. The self-denial 
and the sufferings of these brave settlers, awakened 
all of Mr. Johnson's sympathy and admiration, for he 
was a Puritan, though with less of staid strictness 
than prevailed among the Independents. His con- 



310 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

nection with powerful families had shielded him from 
persecution, but he could not remain silent and inac- 
tive, while he noted the privations of the colonists, 
nor look with pleasure or peace upon his ample pos- 
sessions, and know the poverty of those who suffered 
for religion's sake. 

The experiment of Eobert, son of Sir Ferdinand© 
Georges, and who had lately married Lady Arabella's 
sister, Frances, made little difference with Mr. John- 
son's purpose. Sir Eobert went to Plymouth in 1623, 
with a commission of governor-general of New Eng- 
land • he returned in a few months, " finding the state 
of things did not answer his quality and condition." 
In 1628, a plan was proposed, which finally enlisted 
Mr. Johnson as one of the settlers of IS"ew England. 
The indefatigable exertions of Mr. White, a minister 
of Dorchester, engaged many of the noblest and wor- 
thiest people of England, in a project to " establish a 
plantation of ' the best ' of their countrymen on the 
shores of New England, in a safe seclusion, where the 
corruptions of human superstition might never in- 
vade." A grant of territory was obtained from the 
council of Plymouth, which designated "a belt of 
land stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, ex- 
tending three miles south of the River Charles and 
Massachusetts Bay, and three miles north of every 
part of the River Merrimac." Winthrop, Dudley, 
Endicot, Pellingham, Johnson, and Humfrey, were 
among the undertakers of the enterprise. Mr. John- 
son possessed the largest means, and held the largest 



LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 311 

share in the compact. John Humfrey was allied to 
him by marriage with Susan, a second sister of Ladj 
Arabella. 

That she was to be accompanied by a sister, did 
much to enliven the prospect of emigration, to Ara- 
bella. She was actuated by the same religious zeal 
which prompted Mr. Johnson ; and her love for him 
would have carried her willingly to the end of the 
earth. She might have echoed the language of the 
Spanish lady, who, as described by Peter Martyr, 
" perceiving her husband now furnishing himself to 
depart to the unknown coasts of the New "World, and 
those large tracts of land and sea, spake these words 
unto him : ' Whithersoever your fatal destiny shall 
lead you, either by the furious waves of the great 
ocean, or by the manifold and horrible dangers of the 
land, I will surely bear you company. There can no 
peril chance to me so terrible, nor any kind of death 
so cruel, that shall not be much easier to abide, than 
to live so far separate from you.' " "With this same 
strong, beautiful devotion, the Lady Arabella clung 
to her husband ; not deterring him with tears and la- 
mentations, but, inspired by holy enthusiasm, urging 
him to fulfill his Christian purpose. "With her hand 
pledged in his, she may well have exclaimed, with 
the daughter of JSTaomi : " "Whither thou goest, I will 
go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people 
shall be my people, and thy God, my God : where 
thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried." 

Assured of the willingness of his young wife to 



312 DISCOVERERS AITD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

brave the dangers of the wilderness, Mr. Johnson sold 
his estates, and made preparations for a new home 
beyond the Atlantic. Mr. Endicot, with his wife and 
family, and those whom the company sent with him, 
first sailed for Massachusetts Bay, and commenced 
a settlement at I^aumkeag, now Salem, By the re- 
turning ships, they sent such favorable accounts as 
hastened and encouraged the preparations of those 
about to follow. In the course of the summer of 
1629, seventeen ships, with three hundred persons, 
were sent to reenforce the new colony. In the spring 
of 1630, another fleet of ships was in readiness in the 
port of Yarmouth. 

The largest vessel, of three hundred tons, was 
named the Arabella, in honor of the noble lady whom 
it was to convey. Thomas Dudley and Mr. Brad- 
street, both of whom had held the office of steward, 
in the Earl of Lincoln's family, for many years, were 
among the passengers. The former went as deputy- 
governor. Some occurrence detained Mr. Humfrey 
and his wife, to the severe disappointment of Lady 
Arabella. Governor Winthrop was of the number, 
but without his family, who were to join him the fol- 
lowing year. The excitement of preparation had sus- 
tained the spirits of the party, but the near approach 
of embarkation, the separation from friends, and the 
abandonment of their native land, more as exiles than 
as emigrants, filled all with sadness. The evening 
before the departure, the governor gave a feast to the 
company, and their assembled friends, at Yarmouth. 



LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 313 

While drinking to the health of those left behind, he 
could no longer contain himself, and burst into tears. 
That many a manly heart swelled with emotion, and 
that it was more a feast of sympathy, of tears, of love, 
of encouragement, than a relish of dainty viands, 
those know best who have felt a near, and perhaps 
eternal parting, from the best loved, while gathered 
at a final feast, where each strove to hide a sad and 
tearful countenance under a vail of smiles. 

On the morning of the seventh or tenth of April, 
1629, the ships sailed from Yarmouth, and arrived at 
Salem, June 12th. The two months' voyage was re- 
lieved of much of its tediousness to the companions of 
Lady Arabella, by her sweet vivacity, as character- 
istic as her piety, and in no way incompatible with 
it. To such a temperament as hers, the inconvenien- 
ces and annoyances of voyaging, for weeks, in a close 
cabin, in common with many, only gave occasion for 
innocent mirth, that whiled away the discontent of 
others. Their arrival upon the shores of the New 
World had nothing chilling or repellent in it, for the 
sight of a vast wilderness, rich in the perfected foliage 
of June, inspired more wonder than dread ; and the 
hardships of the new life were too vague to the unin- 
itiated comers, to dishearten or alarm them. 

The ship anchored near Baker's Island. Its arrival 
was immediately welcomed by the settlers, who, the 
year previous, had cleared the forest and broken the 
ground for their coming. Mr. Endicot, Mr. Shelton, 
and Captain Levit, came on board to offer a warm 
N 



31i DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AlVIEEICA. 

greeting, and induced the governor, his assistants, 
and "other gentlemen and gentlewomen," to return 
with them and partake of their rude, but kind hospi- 
tality. Accordingly, they were conveyed to the 
shore, and conducted to the best log house Salem 
could afford, where "they supped," says Hubbard, 
"with a good venison pasty and good beer." The 
earl's daughter, hitherto accustomed to the refine- 
ments of a princely home, must, here, in the low- 
walled, ill-furnished cabin, have felt the reality of 
the pilgrim's life ; and, whatever charm the daring 
and romance of the undertaking had, in the eyes of 
these noble men and women, when discussing it at 
their English firesides, it must have vanished as they 
viewed the mud and log hovels of Salem, the half- 
made gardens, and the small clearings, where young 
corn was springing among dreary groups of burnt 
stumps and upturned roots. That the trying prospect 
before them did not utterly dishearten tliese people, 
unused to privation and labor, can only be attributed 
to the firm Christian principles, through which they 
were strong, hopeful and undaunted. 

Most of them returned to the ship, after the hastily 
prepared feast in their honor, "liking their supper 
better than the lodging which, at that time, could be 
prepared on a sudden," continues Hubbard, " or else 
that they might leave the same free to the gentle- 
women that went ashore with them, who, like Noah's 
dove, finding sure footing on the firm land, returned 
no more to their ark, floating on the unstable waves." 



LADY ARABELLA JOHNSON. 315 

While thej had been feasting on shore, the remainder 
of the ship's company, dissatisfied to spend the af- 
ternoon of the day in idle gazing at the woods and 
the green banks and hills, landed on the side of the 
harbor opposite Salem and towards Cape Ann. There 
they wandered on the grassy turf, in the sunshine and 
in the shade, finding that, after all, earth was earth, 
and trees were trees, in this wonderful ISTew World, 
and that the elms and chestnuts neither grew with 
their tops downward, as the philosophers, who con- 
fronted Columbus, asserted must be the case, if the 
earth be rotund ; nor that every stone " promised gold 
or silver by his complexion," as had been declared of 
some portions of America. IlTew England was vastly 
like the Old, in many respects, and, if in this the 
voyagers were disappointed, they consoled themselves 
by gathering wild strawberries upon the slopes, and 
made themselves " merry as the gentlefolks at their 
venison pasty and strong beer." 

The morning after the arrival of the company, Mas- 
conomo. Sagamore of Cape Ann, with one of his 
chiefs, paid a visit of welcome to the governor, on 
ship-board, and afforded the emigrants a first and pre- 
possessing sight of the much dreaded savages. Prep- 
arations were made the same day for removal to the 
shore, although the position of Salem was not liked 
by the movers of the enterprise. To their dismay, 
they learned that the colonists had scarcely two weeks' 
provision among them, and tliat dependence had been 
placed upon the new arrival for a supply. The pro- 



ol6 DISCOVERERS AND I'lOXEERS OF AilERICA. 

visioned ship had not left England till some time after 
the Arabella. Yet the demands of the settlers were 
urgent ; for many were weak and sick, and it was 
further ascertained that eighty of their number had 
died the previous winter. The sight of their distress 
was disheartening enongh to the enthusiastic men, 
who had come with the expectation only of prosper- 
ity. Disease, famine, and death stared them in the 
face. 

To share with them the provisions which each had 
furnished for himself, was the only, resource. Mr. 
Johnson set the benevolent example, and his wife 
cheerfully parted with the cordials and delicacies, 
which her thoughtful mother had provided for her 
own wants. The servants, who had been transported 
by their employers, were set at liberty to seek the 
living their old masters could not afford them. So 
far from yielding to their present extremity, or be- 
wailing the depressing prospect, a few of the emi- 
grants formed an exploring party, to seek a better 
site for a settlement. 

While these preparations for a home were being 
hastened, Mr. Johnson was detained at Salem by the 
illness of Lady Arabella. A severe cold, accompa- 
nied by slow fever, was the result of exposures which 
she had been too carefully nurtured to meet. The 
days wore on, and with them wore away her strength, 
though she endeavored, with her smiles and cheerful- 
ness, to calm the evident anxiety of her husband, and 
of the many who offered kindness. She had become 



LADY AltABELLA JOHNSON 317 

endeared to the whole colony ; there was not one 
who would not delight to yield from his own comfort 
whatever would contribute to hers. But, with all the 
watchfulness and care of those who loved her, there 
was no abateme'"'t of the disease. She saw, with 
calmness and patient resignation, that she must die. 
But one regret disturbed her peace, and that was 
leaving her husband, who, she well knew, would 
grieve for her with more than ordinary grief. He 
reproached himself, as he saw her fading away, strick- 
en by the trials which she had been ready to share 
with him. But his love and tenderness could not 
countermand the summons to eternity. He could 
only watch, with agonized sadness, at her bedside, in 
the small, dimly lighted room of a log house, the best 
that could be provided ; he could only cling to her 
chilled hand, and listen to her sweet, consoling voice, 
as she bade him look forward to a home where there 
would be no separation, no tears, and assured him of 
her joy in having made her last pilgrimage to a land 
where God might be worshiped in the spirit and truth. 
She had no regrets for the beautiful home she had 
left in the Old World, but rather gloried in finding 
her burial-place upon shores, where she believed a 
people of God had begun to take root. The same 
sweet piety and self-sacrificing spirit that character- 
ized her life, supported her in death. 

The last morning of August, 1630, found the " mor- 
tal paleness" upon her features, beautiful even in 
death. She is dead ! she is dead! the beautiful Ara- 



318 DISCOYEREKS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

bella! echoed from one lip to another. The young 
girls wept, and the matrons sighed at her quick de- 
parture, and said the wilderness was no place for 
earl's daughters. The hardy men were silent at the 
news, but could point out the mounds where their 
own dead were laid, in evidence that they knew the 
agony of the stroke that had fallen upon the newly 
bereaved husband. He sat silent and tearless, his 
eyes clinging to and tracing the smooth, marble fea- 
tures, as if to keep their memory forever with him. 
The eyes in which he had always read ineffable love, 
the lips which had only spoken tenderness and en- 
couragement, no longer welcomed his presence. 

The burial of the good and the loved was too fre- 
quent an occurrence to obtain more than a passing 
notice from the afflicted colonists, almost every one 
of whom had stood at the graves of the near and dear. 
The lovely and the worshiped wife of Johnson was 
laid in one of the grassy glades of Salem, and imme- 
diately the pi'essing wants and occupations of the col- 
ony displaced the passing sadness. Homes and har- 
vests were to be striven for, before the severities of 
winter should overtake them, and snatch still more 
from their diminished numbers. 

All the hope that had animated Mr. Johnson hith- 
erto, seemed buried in the grave of his wife. He 
engaged in the removal to Charlestown, and the plan- 
ning of Trimountain, or Boston, with diligence and 
energy, for, says one of the journalists of the time, he 
" was the greatest furtherer of this plantation ; " yet 



LADY AEABELLA JOHNSON. 319 

all his employments could not divert him from his 
loss, and with all his fortitude and strength of char- 
acter, he could not shake off the grief that preyed 
upon him. He selected a lot, and built a house upon 
it, but the want of the angelic presence of her who 
was to have made his household glad, only saddened 
him the more. His was a dumb grief — fatal in its 
silence. It wore upon him — it consumed his life — 
it bore him to the grave in a few short weeks after 
the death of his loved wife. 

He was buried, at his own request, in the lot he 
had chosen for his dwelling. "At his departure," 
says an early historian, " there were many weeping 
eyes, and some fainting hearts, fearing the failure of 
the undertaking," for he had been " a prime mover 
of the enterprise, zealous in religion," and a benefac- 
tor of the colony. He had left, too, the encouraging 
testimony which had so soothed his sorrow when ut- 
tered by his dying wife, that he " rejoiced that he had 
lived to see a church of Christ established in Amer- 
ica, and professed that he thought his life better spent 
in that than any other way." So much beloved was 
he, that the people desired to be buried near him 
when they died. His lot, tlierefore, was appropria- 
ted as a burial place, and still remains as such, in the 
midst of Boston, in the close vicinity of the Court 
House, which occupies tlie site of his dwelling. 

Two years after the death of Mr. Johnson and Lady 
Arabella, Mr. Humfrey, who was to have emigrated 
with them, arrived at Boston with his family, with 



820 DISCOVEREES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

the hope of furthering the good work, and undis- 
mayed by the sacrifice of a favorite sister, and he? 
revered husband. After a residence of eight or nine 
years, however, and the endurance of losses by fire, 
and m^ny reverses, he returned with his wife to their 
ancestral estates in England. 

However few the records of the gentle Lady Ara- 
bella and her husband, the " Father of Boston," their 
memory will ever be preserved by ISTew Englanders, 
and those who admire and venerate the magnanimity, 
the self-sacrificing spirit, the firmness and the high 
Christian purpose of the early Pilgrims, whom nei- 
ther the fury of the sea, the blight of the north wind, 
the fear of famine, the knife and the war-whoop of 
the savage, nor even the image of Death always sta 
tioned at their thresholds, could, with combined ter- 
rors, deter from the work to which God had ap- 
pointed them. 



IX. 

JOHN ELIOT. 

The spiritual hero is far more illustrious than the 
merely scientific, or military, or mercenary. He who 
rules his own spirit is better than he that taketh a 
city ; and he that conquers hearts to the dominion of 
the Prince of Peace, is greater than he who adds new 
provinces to the realm of his earthly sovereign. Col- 
umbus was a sublime, moral hero, no less than phys- 
ically such ; he dared the scorn of men, as well as 
the foaming lips of the ocean ; but here his praise 
must cease ; a stern encounter of outward difiicul- 
ties, and a brave endurance of ingratitude and chains, 
were the virtues called into exercise. Neither he, 
nor Hudson, nor De Soto, nor Kaleigh, explored, like 
Eliot, the world of truth, and of the human heart, 
persevering in the rugged line of holy duty even to 
extreme age. None of those noted discoverers, like 
this well-entitled Apostle of the Indians, struggled for 
years through barbarous aboriginal dialects, more 
strange and obscure than the tangled southern forests, 
and not to be cut with any axe of steel ; none of 
them can be ranked with him who contended with 
N* 21 



322 DISCOVEKEKS AJSTD PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

Indian indifference, colder than polar ice, and Indian 
wiles, more deceptive than unknown rocks and shoals ; 
none of them, like him, went alone among threaten- 
ing savages, defying their opposition in the words, "I 
am about the work of the great God. ... I will 
go on ; do you touch me if you dare." 

John Eliot was born, it is supposed, in 1604, at 
Kasing, a village situated a few miles north of Lon- 
don, near the famous Epping Forest, which is now a 
level region of rich pasturage and cultivated ground. 
His earliest years passed here under the guidance of 
pious, faithful parents. There was nothing remarka- 
ble in his docile childhood, yet its simple record af- 
fords another illustration of the great results which 
may flow from the use of humble means. 

Whether Cambridge University is the one where 
young Eliot's education was completed, or which of 
its seventeen colleges and halls he entered, are ques- 
tions which can only be settled by reference to their 
archives. Cambridge is so near his native place that 
the probability is in its favor. Here he may possibly 
have dwelt under the same roof with Milton, who was 
younger than he by four years, and graduated at the 
same institution. But, whatever is left in doubt, it is 
certain that he was a thorough scholar, especially in 
the ancient languages, grammar and theology. 

After finishing his academical course, he became 
an usher in a school opened by Tliomas Hooker, at 
Little Baddon, near the county-town of Essex. Mr. 
Hooker had been silenced as a preacher because of 



JOHN ELIOT. 323 

non-conformitj, and in the same year in which he 
established the school, was obliged to escape into 
Holland ; thence he went to New England, was the 
first minister of Cambridge, Mass., and afterwards 
was one of the first settlers who, guided through the 
wilderness by a compass, founded the town of Hart- 
ford, Conn. Short as must have been Eliot's associ- 
ation with this distinguished man, it was ever re- 
membered by him as fruitful in much spiritual good. 
He fulfilled, with quiet assiduity, the trying duties of 
a teacher, although that noble office, still despised in 
England, was then generally held in so much con- 
tempt that Cotton Mather labors to show that Eliot 
was not disgraced by the occupation. In the family 
of the devoted Hooker, he found those happy reli- 
gious influences which not only refreshed him from 
the cares of his employment, but strengthened every 
holy purpose. 

The persecutions that gave no rest to the English 
Puritans, discouraged him from any attempt to as- 
sume, in his native land, the office of the ministry, 
which he had now fixed upon as his proper calling ; 
it is thought, indeed, that he was not even permitted 
to continue as an instructor, after Hooker's school was 
dispersed. The courage exhibited in his after life, 
shows that neither the fear of imprisonment nor of 
death, deterred him from duty ; but his manly sense 
of freedom would not allow him to preach in secret, 
in the recesses of forests and desolate moors, liable to 
be surprised at any moment, by the onset of armed 



S2i DISCOVEE.EES AJ^D PIO^^EEIIS OF AMERICA. 

cavaliers in search of the " rebel roundheads." Like 
all the Pilgrims, he longed for the liberty of a l^ew 
World, notwithstanding the superstition of the time 
had invested the wilderness and the " salvages " with 
a supernatm'al terror, equal to the romantic attrac- 
tion thrown over them by enthusiasm. At the age 
of twenty-seven, he determined to forsake England, 
leaving the lady to whom he was engaged, to follow 
him when he should have provided a fixed home. 

In ITovember, 1631, the ship Lion, Captain Pierce, 
anchored in Boston harbor, with sixty passengers, 
among whom were John Eliot and the family of 
Governor Winthrop. The arrival of so important 
persons, the accession of so many colonists, and the 
no less welcome cargo of provisions at a time when a 
famine was apprehended, were greeted by the first 
celebration of the infant town — • a child's-play dem- 
onstration that, pictured to modern imagination, oddly 
contrasts with the recent reception of a foreign pa- 
triot, by an army of citizen soldiers and a countless 
crowd of spectators, on Beacon Hill, then a towering 
mount of wildwood, but now a half-leveled elevation 
crowned with a State House and princely dwellings, 
that overlook the long, leafy arcades of the Common. 
The site of the city, at that period, presented three 
abrupt eminences, with marshes between, which were 
so overflowed at high-tide as to give the peninsula the 
appearance of two islands. 

The year before Eliot s arrival, Winthrop had 
reached New England with seventeen ships and fif- 



JOHN ELIOT. 825 

teen hundred passengers, more than half of them 
Puritans, and embracing many persons of wealth, 
learning and talent, who left all the refinements of an 
English home for the sake of civil and religious free- 
dom. Many of these settled in the vicinity, but the 
hardships of the first winter, the rude experience of 
life in an uncivilized country, and the consequent de- 
pression of spirits and inroads of disease, seriously 
thinned out their numbers, till a comparatively fee- 
ble band was left to found the future metropolis. The 
little colony, however, was in full operation upon the 
coming of the new emigrants. Its election day was 
fixed, its fine imposed in a case of true T ankee quack- 
ery, its monthly militia trainings instituted, and other 
amusing and still perpetuated characteristics exhib- 
ited, which scarcely seem the record of two hundred 
years ago, but rather that of a settlement of enter- 
prising Yankees in the " backwoods " to-day. 

"With true Puritan zeal, a church had been organ- 
ized before a single tree had been felled or a house 
erected. The pastor of the church. Rev. Mr. "Wilson, 
being absent in England, Eliot was at once called up- 
on to occupy his place, greatly to the relief of the 
governor and two other laymen, who had been ap- 
pointed by the pastor to " prophesy " during his ab- 
sence. "With an audience comprising robust intellect, 
high education, and religious cultivation, it is no 
small testimony to Eliot's ability, that an earnest ef- 
fort was made to retain him as a colleague of Mr. 
Wilson. But he had induced a large number of 



326 DISCOVEKERS AND PIONEEKS OF AMEKICA. 

friends to emigrate to America, with the understand- 
ing that he would be tlieir minister. Witli them, 
came the ladj of his choice, to whom he was united 
in October, 1632. He immediately removed toRox- 
bur J, where he was made teacher of the new church, 
in fulfillment of his promise. 

Ko events of importance are chronicled concern- 
ing him for the next fourteen years, except his inci- 
dental connection with certain political and religious 
agitations in the colony. His life was one of indus- 
trious activity. He followed the round of humble 
duty with the noiseless step of true usefulness, never 
taking a conspicuous part in passing events, except 
when the same sense of duty called for a variation 
from the quiet routine of his occupation. 

In all things he seems to have been the plain model 
of a man, and of a minister of the Gospel. So far as 
can be gathered from the few writings of his that are 
preserved, and from descriptions by his cotempora- 
ries, his discourses were thoroughly studied, simple, 
bold, and warmed with a true Christian love and 
zeal. The same simplicity characterized his daily 
manner, dress and diet ; he was guileless as a child, 
in his conversation, and unostentatious in his bear- 
ing. So intent was he upon higher objects, that his 
personal appearance erred on the side of negligence ; 
and so far was he from indulging the pleasures of ap- 
petite, that he practiced the most rigid self-denial, al- 
ways confining himself to one article of food, and to 
a glass of water, though a feast were set before him, 



JOHN ELIOT. 327 

and thougli the practice was universal to partake of 
wine. By these means, and by his active habits, he 
strengthened his constitution for a long life and ardu- 
ous labors. 

Luxury soon followed the Puritans to their new home 
in the forest. Many of them were wealthy, refined 
ana enterprising, and, as the colony increased and 
prospered, these citizens gradually gathered about 
them some of the comforts of their old homes. Little 
by little, the Eves of the community ventured to add 
a bright ribbon to their sober garb, to alter the wea- 
risome sameness of the cut of tlieir garments, or to 
don a becoming vail which did no manner of harm 
except to excite the envy of some superannuated 
spinster. The young gallants, also, made various in- 
i^vations on the prejudices of the times, till all were 
speedily checked by severe pulpit denunciation. It 
was considered not beneath the dignity of the Gen- 
eral Court of Boston, to sit in judgment upon the 
" large vails and large sleeves " of the women, and to 
condemn the use of "gold and silver laces, girdles, 
hat-bands, and embroidered caps." But it is not sur- 
prising that the heroic and devoted men of that day 
did not discriminate between a culpable excess and a 
reasonable participation in those elegancies of life, 
which are the product of commendable art and indus- 
try, and are the natural flowers that spring from an 
instinctive love of the beautiful. Educated as they 
were, in a land where ceremonials of church and 
state were held in high consideration, and confound- 



328 DISCOVEEEES AND PI®NEEES OF AMEEIOA. 

ing tlie garb witli the reality of tyranny and vanity, 
it is not wonderful that they carried their principles 
to a ludicrous extreme, and gave equal importance to 
insignificant fashions. Eliot was not exempt from the 
mistaken scruples of his period ; he long inveighed 
with determined zeal against the wearing of long hair 
and frizzled wigs — matters that at best are questions 
only of individual taste and convenience. 

His character was by no means severe and repel- 
ling, notwithstanding the grave, earnest nature of his 
pursuits, and of his times. He had' no forced dignity 
and sobriety, peculiar to his class, but that uncon- 
scious dignity which arises spontaneously, from per- 
fect sincerity and right purposes. He was always 
himself, and his conversation was full of lively hu- 
mor, regulated wit, instructive suggestion, and moral 
influence. Gentleness and cheerfulness were the or- 
dinary habit of his feelings, and the spirit of love 
predominated in his teachings ; yet, whenever public 
or private abuses seemed to demand it, he uttered re- 
bukes and denunciations in the appalling tones of the 
ancient prophets and old reformers. At that day, 
and on that free soil, the spiritual guide of the peo- 
ple was expected to utter the truth in all its social 
and civil applications, directly in the face of power 
and station. He was upheld in proportion to his fear- 
less fpathfulness, and not according to his subservi- 
ency to the few from whom he derived his well-earned 
income. 

Amusing anecdotes are told of Eliot's charities. 



JOHN ELIOT. 329 

IText to his single-eyed zeal for the souls of men, was 
this trait of generous benevolence. His life-long at- 
tempts to civilize, as well as to evangelize the In- 
dians, are the best illustrations of this. But he nev- 
er overlooked the daily opportunities of ameliorating 
the jndition of men, in his enthusiasm for great en- 
terprises. The poor and sick were diligently sought 
out, if they did not send for him. The comfort of 
his own family was often forgotten, when an object 
of compassion appealed to his sympathy. On one 
occasion, the parish treasurer had made him a pay- 
ment of salary, but, knowing his too liberal disposi- 
tion, had securely tied up the money in a handker- 
chief Eliot, on his way home, called on a poor, sick 
family, and told them the Lord had sent them relief. 
They wept for gratitude, while he endeavored to 
loosen the hard knots of the handkerchief. Unable 
to open it, he gave it and all the contents to the needy 
mother of the family, saying, " Here, my dear, take 
it; I believe the Lord designs it all for you." 

His companion, destined to walk life's pilgrimage 
with him for more than half a century, was every 
way congenial in disposition, and fitted to supply 
his deficiencies. She had some skill in medicine, 
and greatly assisted him in his efibrts to relieve 
illness, disease and poverty. More than all, by 
her busy industry, and shrewd economy, she kept 
his affairs from falling into the perplexity to which 
his bountiful and artless nature would have sufi'ered 
them to run. So little did he concern himself 



330 DISOOVEREKS AJSTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

with the goods of this world, it is related that she 
once asked him whose were the cattle which hap- 
pened to be standing in front of his house ; he replied 
that he did not know, and was surprised to find that 
they were his own property. 

Such was the man who well represented his age 
and state of society, and who has left a life replete 
with noble deeds. The picture, as thus presented, 
has, doubtless, the mellow coloring of his riper days. 
He was young when he entered upon his work, and 
lived to very advanced years. The inexperienced 
and trivial impulses of his youth, if any were yielded 
to, are lost in oblivion, and his mistakes, acknowl- 
edged by him as such, do not mar the fine pattern of 
character exhibited in his memoirs. In all things, he 
might well have stood for the original of Cowper's 
portrait of a spiritual teacher, drawn a century af- 
terward. 

Eliot had not long resided at Eoxbury, when an 
event occurred which illustrates his independence 
and candor, while it may also be an instance of his 
immaturity of judgment, and of the position of his 
class, then, as the Roman-like tribunes of the people. 
The Pequot sachem, who was engaged in a war with 
the Naragansets and the Dutch, sent envoys to ne- 
gotiate a treaty of peace with the Massachusetts colo- 
ny. Strange as it may now seem, the matter was 
brought up at the weekly religious lecture, where 
members of the council happened to be when the am- 
bassadors arrived, and where it was considered fortu- 



J0B3T ELIOT. 331 

nate that thej could be consulted in connection with 
the clergy, who had no small share in public delib- 
erations. A treaty was efi'ected, by which the In- 
dians, among other conditions, were to aid the forma- 
tion of a Connecticut settlement, and to pay "four 
hundred fathoms of wampum, with forty beaver, and 
thirty other skins." Eliot denounced the transaction 
in a sermon, particularly because the people had not 
been consulted. The government directed three cler- 
gymen, one of whom was his old fellow-teacher, Mr. 
Hooker, to " deal with him ; " and, the next Sabbath, 
he readily acknowledged that, inasmuch as the treaty 
was one of peace, not of war, he had condemned too 
hastily " the powers that be." His life affords too 
much proof of undaunted firmness of character, to ad- 
mit of interpreting this magnanimous willingness to 
retract an error, as an act of weakness or cowardly 
inconsistency. 

He next appears in the famous affair of Ann Hutch- 
inson — a theological war that originated in what 
may be considered the first "Womans' Rights move- 
ment in America. The men of the First Church, in 
Boston, were accustomed to meet, recapitulate the 
sermons of the preceding Sabbath, and comment on 
them ; and from these meetings the women were ex- 
cluded. Mrs. Hutchinson, a native of Lincolnshire, 
and wife of one of the Boston representatives at the 
General Court, established similar conclaves at her 
own house, freely discussed the doctrines of the pul- 
pit, taking Mr. Cotton into her especial favor, and de- 



832 DISCOVERERS ^IND PIONEERS OF AilERICA. 

noimcing all but two or three of the ministers as un- 
der covenant of works, instead of grace. Among 
other heresies, she advocated the possibility of enjoy- 
ing immediate Divine inspiration. 

The proceeding soon grew to be a general contro- 
versy ; civil and ecclesiastical dignitaries were ranged 
?)n opposite sides of the question ; all impugned the 
motives as well as human opinions of each other, and 
were, as they persuaded themselves, very humbly 
jealous for the pure truth. At length, to settle the 
weiglity matter, the first synod in America was call- 
ed at E'ewton, near Boston. Eliot was one of the 
witnesses against Ann Hutchinson ; he, with others, 
had visited her and taken down her sentiments in 
writing, to the exactness of which they were obliged 
to testify under oath. In the course of the trial, El- 
iot denied that the Scripture encourages us to expect 
a "particular revelation of things that shall fall out." 
To this. Governor Vane, a partisan of the defendant, 
replied that "we must not limit the word of God." 
It also appeared that the venerable Hooker had pro- 
fessed to receive a revelation concerning the over- 
throw of England. This imputation was mistakenly 
contradicted by Eliot. 

The convention gravely passed condemnation on 
no less than eighty-tioo erroneous opinions of poor 
Ann and her followers — a result at which we need 
not smile, when we recollect that many such petty 
questions, as whether a man may marry his wife's 
sister, or whether his daughter may move her feet to 



JOHN ELIOT. 333 

music, are worthy of profound legislation in learned 
assemblies, gathered from all parts of the United 
States, in this enlightened day, while real and " pe- 
culiar" evils are snugly wrapped in the cloak of 
charity. The misguided Ann was afterwards ban- 
ished by the General Court, and went to the then asy- 
lum of free speech — Rhode Island. Subsequently, 
she and her family were killed by the Indians, in the 
Dutch country — an event that was construed by her 
persecutors as a judgment of Heaven, and by no 
means as a consequence of their own officious intol- 
erance, which would not let a woman's delusion die 
out, but fanned it into a fire that threatened to con- 
sume the colony. 

But a few years after this extirpation of heresy, the 
triumphant faith of the colony had risen to such a 
pitch, that a new metrical version of the Psalms was 
demanded. Eliot was one of three appointed to this 
work, and the result was the first bound volume ever 
published in America, only a pamphlet and an alma- 
nac having preceded it. The book was printed at 
Cambridge, in 1640, and entitled, " The Psalms in Me- 
tre, faithfully translated for the use, edification, and 
comfort of the Saints, in publick and private, espe- 
cially in New England." The version was soon 
adopted throughout the region named in the title by 
which it was generally known — the "J^ew England 
Yersion," and was used by non-conformists in Britain. 
The piety of the work is so much better than the po- 



334: DTSOOVKT^FRS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

etry, that tlie authors deserve the satirical advice 
given them at the time : 

"You Roxb'ry poets, keep clear of the crime, 
Of missing to give us very good rhyme." 

Eliot occasionally amused himself by writing ver- 
ses — a most laudable exercise and recreation, if it 
be the putting of some beautiful thought into melodi- 
ous language ; but, in that age, it was a mere rivalry 
in trivial and ingenious conceits, expressed in pedan- 
tic words. His " New England Yersion," however,' 
answered its purjjose, great as its faults may have 
been. Its stanzas have winged many a devoted soul 
to heaven, in the hour of worship. 

Elliot next appears in the great undertaking, to 
which the best energies of his life were given, and 
which has lent his name its chief distinction — the 
conversion of the Indians. This had been a promi- 
nent object with the patrons of American discovery, 
such as Isabella, of Spain, and with many of the first 
settlers. Glorious visions of the christianizing of the 
aborigines, floated before their eyes ; much wealth 
and life were consecrated to this noble end. It 
should be remembered that a world-wide benevolence, 
not confined to our own boastful age, was a powerful 
motive in that day, no less than lust of gold and love 
of freedom. In the Charter of the Massachusetts col- 
ony, granted by Charles I., the hope was expressed 
that the colonists " male wynn and incite the natives 



JOHN ELIOT. 335 

of the country to the knowledge and obedience of the 
onlie true God and Savior of mankinde, and the Chris- 
tian Fayth, which in our Royall Intencion, and the 
Adventurers' free Profession, is the principall Ende 
of this Plantacion." 

The success of Eliot, as well as that of Brainard, in 
the next century, and of the Cherokee mission in this, 
is proof, in the face of all failures, that the simple- 
hearted children of the forest might have been civil- 
ized, in the course of time, had not the corrupting 
influences tliat accompany civilization, and the supe- 
rior tactics of Europeans, wasted the tribes too soon 
for the realization of the grand result. Had wars, 
foreign diseases, and spirituous poison, been unknown, 
the numerous tribes, whose "names are on our wa- 
ters," would have been found to-day in refined com- 
munities, scattered over their ancient country, or col- 
lected in some well-tilled state or territory of their 
own. 

The progress of the work among the natives, was 
reported from time to time, to the world, in pam- 
phlets that bore such quaint and poetic titles as these : 
" The Day-Breaking, if not the Sun-Rising of the 
Gospel, with the Indians of 'New England, &c., Lon- 
don, 1647 ; "— " The Cleare Sun-Shine of the Gospel 
breaking forth upon the Indians, &c., 1648 ; " — " The 
Light appearing more and more towards the perfect 
Day, &c., 1651." He who was the leader in a move- 
ment which his cotemporaries loved to speak of in 
these glowing images of day-break, may well be 



336 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

numbered among the morning stars of the Kew 
World. 

The General Court, in 1646, requested the elders of 
the churches to consider how Christianity might be 
diffused among the natives, and this recommendation 
appears to have increased the zeal of Eliot. He had 
already begun to acquire the Indian language, with 
the aid of a young Pequot, who had been a servant 
in an English family. In this task he was engaged 
two years, before he thought himself prepared to 
preach in the language, although he was sooner able 
to translate it into the Commandments, the Lord's 
Prayer, with passages of Scripture, and exhortations. 
It was a long, patient, humble, though noble, under- 
taking to surmount the first difficulty. The sole mo- 
tive was to do good ; for no treasures of literature 
were to be unlocked, by the hard study — only a me- 
dium for communicating truth to the savage, was to 
be acquired. The Indian dialects were full of unpro- 
nounceable words, such as "Wutappessttukgussunnoo- 
hwehtunkquok " — " kneeling down to him ; " with 
no grammar or dictionary, these words were so in- 
comprehensible that Cotton Mather gravely declares 
that certain demons, whose skill in language he had 
tested, were confounded by the speech of the Ameri- 
can barbarians, while the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, 
were quite intelligible to the same demons. 

This period of Eliot's life was in interesting contrast 
with his earlier position, when, as a Cambridge stu- 
dent, he had pored over the classics, among the 



JOHN ELIOT. 337 

grand old trees and buildings of an English Univer- 
sity, and, in the words of a later son of the same ac- 
ademical mother, had 

Heard in college fanes 
The storm their high-built organs make, 
And thunder-music, rolling, shake 
The prophets blazoned on the panes." 

Now the simple chanting of a few pilgrims and 
half-tamed Indians, in a mud-built, straw-thatched 
church, were the accompaniments of his labors. Or, 
seated in his rude manse, he became the pupil of a 
wild Pequot, rather than of the learned professors of 
his youth, and slowly and painfully possessed himself 
of the sense of the rough jargon uttered by his sav- 
age teacher. 

Kot that the uncontaminated Indian was a savage 
in the sense that the gross, treacherous, and ferocious 
South-sea cannibal is, but only such in the arts of life ; 
for the original lords of North American soil were as 
true-hearted and gentle as children, except when, 
roused to warfare by wrongs, or by the politics of 
their jealous sachems and powaws, who, like their 
counterparts in every nation, were corrupted by 
power, and ever on the alert to preserve their selfish 
interests. When excited to violence in these ways, 
the sous of the wilderness were quite as false, subtle, 
and blood-thirsty as their refined conquerors. The 
lion and the lamb — the animal and the angel, dwelt 
together in their nature, as in that of all men, and 
O 22 



338 DISCO VEEERS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

either could be so awakened as to prevail over the 
other element. 

Eliot was forty-two years old when he entered on 
the work of nnfolding the truths of Christianity to the 
natives. He had seen much of them in their inter- 
course with the colony, and had become friendly with 
several. They expressed a desire to live like the Eu- 
ropeans, with whom they believed their people would 
be wholly mingled in a hundred years. Of course, 
their wish to be taught respecting the true God, as 
has been always proved in their case, had too little 
spiritual development to include other than mere out- 
ward advantages, which they hoped the teaching 
would immediately bring ; and then, as ever, when 
they found it brought small present profit, no meat 
and drink, there was danger of a reaction in their 
minds. But Eliot rightly improved their inquiring 
state of intellect, and made an appointment to meet 
them on the twenty-eighth of October, 1646, on the 
hills of Newtown, Massachusetts, which are now in the 
suburbs of Boston, and daily passed by crowded trains 
of the Western railway. Here the first civilized set- 
tlement of Indians was afterwards made, and known 
as Nonantum. 

In company with three friends, Eliot, as a messen- 
ger of Heavenly Love, pushed through the oak woods, 
red with the flush of October, dark with fragrant 
pines, and bright with gaudy, autumnal flowers. The 
clear, cold air kindled the pulse of his high purpose, 
and when, from openings in the forest, he looked afar 



JOHN ELIOT. 339 

over Boston, with its leafy hills and smoky villages, 
and, beyond, over the islanded bay, with its lone lit- 
tle vessel or two, and the distant sea, lost in purple 
haze, he thought, perhaps, not of a future metropolis 
that would cover the whole scene with roof and sail, 
but of the time when the whole land in sight would 
be a cultivated garden, where the red man and white 
man should live in neighborly and equally enlight- 
ened communities. 

On their way they were met by Waban, who was 
called " chief minister of justice," among the Indians, 
and had, more than any other, exhibited an encoura- 
ging spirit, having, of his own accord, offered his eldest 
son to be educated by the Christians. In his wigwam 
the natives were assembled to hear the religious ser- 
vice. This was commenced by an English prayer, 
inasmuch as Eliot was not familiar enough with their 
language to use it with freedom in devotions. For 
the preaching he had made more preparation, and 
had the assistance of an interpreter. He took for his 
text the words of Ezekiel, beginning, " Prophesy unto 
the winds," &c., words which seemed providential, 
the name of the foremost Indian, Waban, signifying 
" wind ; " the text having been selected with no ref- 
erence to the coincidence, and the result being that 
Waban became a very constant and active believer. 
Tlie ten commandments, the outline of scrijDtural his- 
tory, and the first truths of the Gospel, were the sub- 
jects of the discourse, which, according to the custom 
of the time, was an hour and a quarter long, yet was 



34:0 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

listened to by the heathen audience with attentive 
curiosity and varying emotions. It was a noble scene 
— this learned man and influential divine, in a wig- 
wam of coarse mats, standing up in a little company 
of wild hunters and warriors, dark in feature and soul, 
explaining to them the sublimest truths in the sim- 
plest terms and illustrations. A narrative, written 
at the time, speaks of it as a breaking of the pre- 
cious alabaster box, in the gloomy habitations of the 
unclean. 

When Eliot had finished his message from God, the 
simple, child-like, yet often shrewd, audience plied 
him with questions, such as these : Whether God 
could understand prayers in the Indian language : 
whether He would be oflfended with the good child 
of a bad pareni : how the earth had become so full 
of people since the flood. In reply to Eliot's ques- 
tions, they seemed to have no great difficulty in un- 
derstanding the invisible and omnipresent nature of 
God, and to be aware of the guilt of sin, and of the 
immortality of the soul. Uj)on parting, they ex- 
pressed a strong desire to erect a permanent village, 
and to avail themselves of the teachings to which 
they had intently listened. Eliot left them cheered 
and hopeful, and gained the good will of the little 
troop that always enlivened an Indian encampment, 
by judiciously distributing gifts among them, reserv- 
ing a present of tobacco for the old men. 

Two weeks afterwards the same scene was re- 
peated, though, now, the questions of the natives 



JOHN ELIOT. 341 

were, whetlier an old man conld repent : how the 
Heavenly Father came to be more known to the 
English : how he might be served, — points that were 
appropriately described by the relation of father and 
child. They also wished to know why the ocean is 
salt and does not overflow the land, if the world be a 
globe ; likewise, if a thief, having made restitution, 
would be exposed to Divine penalty. During the 
closing prayer, in their own language, one of the In- 
dians wept, being convinced by the truth. Conver- 
sation with him, and interest in those who clustered 
about him, eager to know the virtues of the " living 
water," detained the devoted missionary till sunset. 

The next Saturday night, a native brought his own 
son and three other young children to Mr. Eliot's 
honse, to be retained and educated in the English 
faith ; and soon afterwards the Indians offered all 
their children for this purpose. Skillful and frugal 
as his good wife was, it was impossible to take all 
the wild little savages of the tribe into his own abode, 
by no means spacious ; yet he knew, with the Ro- 
manists, that children are the great hope in estab- 
lishing any system of faith — a truth, like the air, or 
daylight, so familiar that few think of its amazing 
importance. The establishment of a school was im- 
mediately agreed upon. 

The results of Eliot's first year of labor were highly 
satisfactory. The winter proved favorable to his ex- 
cursions through the forest, for it is singularly re- 
corded by him, that no snow fell, and no sharp 



342 DISCOVERERS AND PI01!fEERS OF AMERICA. 

■weather was experienced. Thus favored by Provi- 
dence, he improved the time so assiduously, that, in 
the following spring, the Indians, under his direction, 
built the village of Nonantum — ■ a name that signi- 
fies "rejoicing" — thus happily commemorating the 
success of the Gospel among them. They passed 
laws for themselves, to promote virtue and industry ; 
and erected huts of bark, with separate rooms. Eliot 
supplied them with spades and other tools, and gave 
them a sixpence for every rod of ditch or wall which 
they finished with their own hands. 

Among other changes instituted by their revered 
teacher, was the cutting of the scalp-lock, in which 
the Indian takes great pride. The ridicule and laugh- 
ter of their unsubdued companions was the result, at 
which they much complained. That they bore it, 
however, was then esteemed a great proof of the 
power of the Gosj^el. 

With his unfailing good judgment, Eliot saw that 
social order, with its habits of cleanliness, labor and 
a sufficiency of comforts, is indispensable to the suc- 
cess of a spiritual reformation. The experiment which 
a living and no less worthy apostle is now making in 
the dens of city iniquity, was then triumphantly made, 
in other ways, by Eliot. " By his direction, they 
fenced their ground with ditches and stone walls, some 
of which were remembered by persons in the latter 
part of the last century. Their women partook of the 
spirit of improvement, and became skillful spinners, 
their good teacher, himself, taking pains to obtain 



JOHN ELICT. 343 

wheels for them. They began to experience the stim- 
ulating advantages of traffic, and found something to 
carry to market in the neighboring towns. In the 
winter, they sold brooms, staves, eel-pots, baskets, and 
turkeys ; in the summer, whortleberries, grapes, and 
fish ; in the spring and autumn, strawberries, cranber- 
ries and venison. In the season of harvest, they some- 
times worked on wages for their English neighbors, 
but were not found to be hardy or persevering la- 
borers." 

Hearing of this singular settlement, a sachem came 
from Concord to behold the wonder with his own eyes, 
and to hear the new faith which had been adopted by 
his bpother warriors. He was deeply impressed by 
Eliot's teachings, and so pleased with the new village 
that, upon his return home, he organized a similar 
one, afterwards known as Washobah, and which was 
often visited by the never-tiring apostle. These, with 
other similar communities, soon became known as 
" praying Indians," family prayer being a universal 
custom with them, whether they had met with any 
marked religious experience or not, as, indeed, it 
should be in every household that acknowledges the 
true God. 

The various well-ordered hamlets were noticed by 
the General Court, which established a quarterly tri- 
bunal at each village, authorizing the Indians to try 
certain cases of misdemeanor among themselves. The 
Synod of churches, also, became interested in the 
work, and invited the converted natives to join an as- 



814 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF A^fERICA. 

semblage of tliat body at Cambridge, in June, 1647. 
The reverend dignitaries of the church, even in those 
times of starched formality and stately procedure, 
already deemed the enterprise of such importance 
that they sat in company with the half-reclaimed and 
half-clothed roamers of the wilderness and their wild- 
eyed children, listening to a sermon from Eliot, in the 
heathenish language, and, like the grand old Doctors 
in the Jewish Temple, when the youthful Jesus ques- 
tioned them, hearing the many inquiries j)roposed, as 
usual, by those bronzed warriors, who were yet infants 
in divine knowledge. 

How to know the good from the bad ; why God did 
not give all men good hearts, and why he did not kill 
the devil ; why the good are afflicted ; what becomes 
of children after death ; whether the ignorant shall 
be punished ; if the soul could escape from a case of 
iron a foot thick, — were questions often proposed, 
and would perplex unintelligent minds at this day. 
Their shrewdness often excited a smile, and their 
quick perception of inconsistency required peculiar 
watchfulness and wisdom on the part of their teacher. 

Many anecdotes are chronicled, which exhibit 
Eliot's ready tact and good sense in meeting the diffi- 
culties of his work. The son of a sachem, with whom 
a treaty, which, vastly unlike modern treaties, included 
the Ten Commandments, had been made by the col- 
ony, would not repeat the fifth — to " honor thy fa- 
ther," &c., because his father compelled him to drink 
a wine then called sack The son was rebuked for 



JOHN ELIOT. 845 

irreverence, and the sachem publicly lectured for his 
conduct towards his son. The result was, that both 
were brought to penitent tears, " the subduing spirit 
of love bursting, forth in the bosom of the savages, 
like a beautiful wild-flower from the cleft of a rock," 
or like the first tenderness instilled into the heart of 
poor " Topsey " by the love of gentle " Eva." The 
sachem subsequently caused much trouble by his va- 
riable moods. It was to him that Eliot afiirmed his 
resolution to do God's work, so fearlessly that the wild 
chief cowered into meek assent ; and when, still later, 
his ambition and avarice, as a sachem, led him to new 
plots against the missionary work, he was again over- 
whelmed by a public lecture. All complaints and 
evils were carefully investigated by Eliot, so that the 
arrows of his kind rebuke usually hit the center of 
the mark. 

The way in which he met the physical and moral 
wants of his uncivilized disciples, was at all times 
praiseworthy, and may convey lessons to later gene- 
rations. "When they were discouraged from devo- 
tional duty by their ungodly brethren, who told them 
that no better clothes and corn were gained by pray- 
ing, but much pleasure lost, he held up his little finger 
and thumb, showing that there are little blessings, 
such as clothes, homes, food, and great blessings, such 
as heavenly wisdom and eternal life. 

Having succeeded so well thus far, Eliot deter- 
mined to .extend his labors. Near the Merrimac 
Kiver, lived Passaconaway, a chief of great power, 
0* 



346 DISCO VEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AMEEICA. 

who was acknowledged as a superior by many sa- 
chems. He was already old, and is said to have lived 
to the age of one hundred and twenty years. He was 
considered a powaw of extraordinary skill, his sub- 
jects asserting that he could make a green leaf grow 
in winter, put the trees into a dance, and set water 
on fire. This chief, Eliot, with several English 
friends and converted Indians, visited, in 1647. Up- 
on their approach to his domains, Passaconaway fled, 
leaving his people to receive the comers as best they 
might, and it was not until the following year that he 
could be persuaded to listen to Eliot's preaching. 

That indefatigable laborer took advantage of an an- 
nual gathering of his tribe at a great fishing-place. 
While at the height of noisy carousal, Eliot appeared 
among them unarmed, and almost unattended, but 
with an undaunted presence, that efiectually checked 
any hostile purpose. His situation called for rare 
courage and wisdom ; coming, as he did, to proclaim 
new doctrines, and to overturn their long-established 
and cherished customs. But with an air of fatherly 
authority, he hushed the multitude and gathered them 
about him. Seated in a half-circle, under the arching 
trees, they maintained a respectful silence ; even the 
obstinate chieftain was constrained to submit to the 
apostle's sudden and skillful coup cTetat^ and, like 
certain other royal personages, heard a new and unpal- 
'atable code of laws expounded to his people. At first 
he listened with dogged sullenness, but ere long the 
heart-felt eloquence of the earnest teacher thawed the 



JOHN ELIOT. 347 

icj case into which he had gathered himself, like a 
snail in its shell. A furtive glance, now and then, 
betrayed his awakening interest, and soon, forgetting 
his desire to conceal it, his e^^es were fixed upon the 
speaker, and tears were chasing over his furrowed 
cheeks. When Eliot closed, he avowed his solemn 
purpose to practice prayer, and urged his sons to fol- 
low his example. 

At parting, Eliot distributed various gifts among 
them, to conciliate their good will, which he had cer- 
tainly gained already ; for, as he was mounting his 
horse, a poor Indian timidly put in his hand a penny- 
worth of wampum. He gratefully received it, " see- 
ing so much hearty affection in so small a thing," 

Passaconaway, afterwards, strongly urged Eliot to 
come and live among his people, using this uncom- 
monly refined argument in support of his entreaty : 
" You do," said he, " as if one should come and throw 
a fine thing among us, and we should catch at it earn- 
estly, because it appears so beautiful, but cannot look 
at it to see what is within ; but if you will stay with 
us, and open it to us, and show us all within, we shall 
believe it to be as good as you say it is." The good 
man acknowledged that the gospel needed to be heard 
oftener to be understood, but, considering his ISTonan- 
tum disciples were best fitted to form a center 
of influence, he deferred the subject, though his at- 
tached proteges, willing to obey him in anything, of 
fered to abandon their present site and go to the pro- 
posed region. 



34r8 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEEKS OF AMERICA. 

Eliot was never idle. He traveled from one of his 
Indian stations to another, fearless of the dangers of 
the wilderness, and boldly passing through regions he 
knew to be peopled by disaffected Indians, or to be 
the scenes of cold-blooded murders. On one occa- 
sion, notwithstanding the prudent advice of his Rox- 
bury charge, he traversed a large and wild section of 
country, penetrating to the center of the present State 
of Massachusetts. It was enough for him to receive 
a message from an unseen chieftain, desiring him to 
bring tidings of his God. Nothing could prevent his 
prompt assent to such an invitation. Finding him res- 
olute, several friends accompanied him on this long, 
weary journey, during which, as was often the case in 
his excursions, " from Tuesday to Saturday, he was 
never dry. At night he would pull off his boots, 
wring the water from his stockings, and put them on 
again." The rivers were swollen by the rains ; and, as 
the men made their way through them on horseback, 
they were still more wet. Eliot's horse failed from 
exhaustion, and he was obliged to let him go without 
a rider, and take one belonging to another person. 
But he says, with his usual cheerful piety, " I consid- 
ered that word of God : ' Endure hardness as a good 
soldier of Christ.' " 

Another of his principal tours was to Yarmouth, on 
Cape Cod, where a council of churches was invited 
to harmonize certain difficulties. Eliot was too full 
of unflagging zeal to lose so good an opjoortunity to 
do his chosen work, and, accordingly, gathered the 



JOHN ELIOT. 349 

natives who frequented the level, sandy meadows and 
pine woods of the cape. But he found their dialect 
so different as to prevent the ready communication 
of truth, and was further impeded by a fierce sachem, 
called by the English, Jehu, who sent his subjects off 
to fish, at the hour of religious service. Another sa- 
chem and his followers, however, consoled the devo- 
ted evangelist by their good attention. 

Some old traditions were brought to light on this 
occasion. An old Indian said, in substance, that " the 
very things which Mr. Eliot had just taught concern- 
ing the creation, the nature of God and his com- 
mandments, had been said years ago by some old men 
among them, who were now dead, and since whose 
death, all knowledge of these doctrines had been lost, 
till then revived. Their forefathers once knew God, 
but fell into a heavy sleep (or forgetfulness), and when 
they awoke, they had forgotten him." One of the 
Indians related a wonderful dream, which he had be- 
fore the landing of the English. He saw " a multi- 
tude of men coming to that region, dressed in such 
garments as he now found the English to wear. 
Among them was one man all in black, with some- 
thing in his hand, which he now discovered to be a 
book. The man stood higher than the rest, and as- 
sured the Indians that God was angry with them, and 
would destroy them for their sins." A pestilence was 
raging at the time of the dream, to the destruction 
of many natives. The tradition and the vision can 
be explained by the fact that a French ship had been 



350 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

wrecked on that coast thirty years before ; the crew 
were saved, and with theni a priest, but nearly all 
were massacred. One of the number lived long 
enough to instruct them, and threatened them with 
destruction from God, who would give their land to 
another nation. The fatal plague, after the stranger's 
death, seemed a partial fulfillment of the prediction, 
and impressed it upon their minds. 

Meanwhile the small beginnings of civilization at 
Nonantum, went encouragingly on. Fruit-trees were 
sent from England for the plantation, and frequent 
sums of money bestowed both by the colonists and 
by the friends at home, for the purchasing of tools 
and implements of labor, and for obtaining teachers 
for the children's school, which " came on very pret- 
tily." Eliot obtained proper tools for the new work- 
men, with great difficulty ; so much trouble did he 
experience in this respect, that he was obliged still to 
postpone his favorite plan of a model Indian settle- 
ment. The docile savages had, nevertheless, learned 
to saw boards and planks, and had accomplished much 
ditching and fencing. 

Accounts of these efforts reaching England, much 
interest was excited among the pious and benevolent, 
which resulted in the formation of a society. An act 
for its incorporation was passed in Parliament, and 
read in all the pulpits of England and Wales, where 
collections were also taken up, though with little 
success. The Society was slandered, and at the res- 
toration of Charles II., its very existence was endan- 



JOHN ELIOT. 351 

gered ; but it was preserved ; a new charter was 
granted tlirough the influence of Baxter, Robert 
Boyle and the Earl of Clarendon, and a large fund 
was iinallj raised to pay salaries, support schools, sup- 
ply implements, found an Indian college, and print 
Eliot's translation of the Bible, together with other 
books. 

While all this was being accomplished, Eliot suf- 
fered many discouragements. Conceited persons, who 
had taken no pains to visit the scenes of religious op- 
eration, and had taken their impressions of the red 
men from the thievish loiterers around the English 
towns, returned to England and disparaged the whole 
work, in the way that many now libel the missionary 
enterprises. The powaws and sachems created near- 
er trouble. They grew more desperate in their oppo- 
sition to the new religion, as they saw their hitherto 
absolute power decreasing before the light of truth ; 
for it is always the fact that " neither in the splendid 
palace, nor in the cabins of the forest, is man willing 
to resign arbitrary power, so long as he can hold it." 
Some of the sachems banished the " praying Indians " 
from their tribes, and, as was affirmed, in some cases 
put them to death. Eliot, however, withstood the 
sorcerers and sagamores to the face, knowing they 
feared both his calm courage and the power of the 
English, and trusting, at all events, in the protection 
of God. More than once, he declared to them that 
he was engaged in the work of God, that he did not 



362 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

fear all the sacliems in the country, and they might 
touch him if they dared. 

Added to these discouragements, the expected sup- 
plies from England did not arrive. Believing it to 
be a judgment from Heaven, Eliot appointed a day 
of fasting and prayer. This long-wished assistance 
arrived while they were keeping the religious appoint- 
ment, and was joyfully received as an answer to 
their prayers. 

Eliot saw his hopes at last about to be realized. 
The means, so earnestly prayed for, were now his, to 
execute his chief design of gathering the scattered con- 
verts to a central spot in one flourishing settlement, at 
a distance from the English. With this in view he 
rode into the country, to inspect a proposed site for 
it ; and, with that most reasonable reliance upon Pro- 
vidence in the least transaction, he stopped on his 
way, and, selecting a lonely spot, distant from the 
beaten path, he prayed for Divine direction. Soon 
after, he met a few Indians who recommended to him 
the place afterwards called JSTatick. This meeting 
and advice proved so fortunate, that he rightly con- 
sidered it as truly an answer to his prayer as if he 
had been selecting a site for the capital of a power- 
ful empire. 

Natick signifies " a place of hills ; " and is eighteen 
miles south-west of Boston, on Charles river. To this 
spot the Indians of Nonantum prepared to remove. 
Their first work towards it was throwing a foot-bridge 
across the stream, eighty feet in length, and nine feet 



JOHK ELIOT. 353 

in height at the center. This accomplished, they com- 
menced building the village, with much enthusiasm. 
"Their town was laid out in three streets, two on one 
side, and one on the other side of the river. Apple- 
trees were planted, and grain was sowed. A house- 
lot was assigned to each family, and it is said that 
some of the cellars upon them may be seen at the 
present day. They built a circular fort, palisaded 
with trees, and a large house in the English style, the 
lower part of which was to be used for public wor- 
ship on the Sabbath, and for a school-room on other 
days, while the upper part was appropriated as a 
wardrobe, and as a depository for valuable commod- 
ities. Part of this room was partitioned off for Eliot's 
use, and there he had a bed." The house was built 
entirely by the Indians, with the exception of one 
day's work by an English carpenter. "Wigwams out- 
numbered frame houses in the settlement, as the red 
men were not yet free from their inherited and long- 
indulged taste for a simple, rude life. 

It was a ruling idea of Eliot, as of the Puritans 
generally, that all human laws should be copied di- 
rectly from the Bible ; and in order to find civil laws 
recourse was had to the book of Moses. The good 
man, therefore, rejoiced that, while- other nations, in 
his own words, would be unwilling to lay down the 
imperfect star-light of their laws, for the perfect sun- 
light of the Scriptures, the Indians would yield to 
any direction from the Lord, being simple in heart 
and customs. " They shall be wholly governed by 

23 



854 DISCOVEREKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

the Scriptures in all things, both in Church and 
State," he said ; and he added, " Oh, the blessed day 
in Eno-land, when the Word of God shall be their 
Magna Charta, and chief law-book, and when all law- 
yers must be divines to study the Scriptures." 

Agreeably to these views, the people of N^atick, 
like the Israelites, were divided into hundreds, fifties 
and tens, each number with a ruler — those over the 
tens being called " tithing-men." A day of fasting 
and prayer was appointed, when the natives entered 
into a solemn covenant to observe the form of gov- 
ernment. The day was spent in religious exercises 
conducted by them, as well as by Eliot. The new 
converts expounded the Bible so well that Governor 
Endicot and others, who visited Natick not long after 
this fast-day, were pleasantly surprised at the clear- 
ness and beauty with which they explained the para- 
bles of Christ. Lips that, until within a few months 
of that time, had been used to the war-whoop and 
the language of earth only, now uttered the gentle 
teachings of heaven ; woods that had resounded only 
to the wind, the thunder, the cry of the wild beast 
and of the hunter, now echoed the words of christian 
exhultation and resounded with sacred hymns. Mr. 
Wilson described a psalm translated into the Indian 
language as sung " in one of our ordinary English 
tunes melodiously," and speaks of the Indian preach- 
ing as marked with "great devotion, gravity, decen- 
cy, readiness and afi'ection." The visitors were par- 
ticidarly struck with the excellence of the foot-bridge, 



JOKN" ELIOT. 355 

wticli, to the delight of the builders, had endured, 
while one constructed by the English in the vicinity, 
had been swept away by the floods. They also no- 
ticed the European drums, skillfully made by the 
natives, and used, as in the white settlements then, to 
call the people to all public meetings. 

The wisdom of preparing and employing native 
teachers to spread the gospel among those of their 
own blood, was deeply felt by Eliot, and much effort 
was used to this end. One of these had learned to 
write correctly and became a schoolmaster at ISTatick. 
Some were sent to the Narragansets and other tribes, 
to proclaim the truth, and met with some encourage- 
ment. A company of Indians from Martha's Vine- 
yard, who had accepted the white man's faith, visited 
Eliot's especial disciples and were then first aston- 
ished at the strange, new sympathies inspired by 
Christianity. " How is it," they said, " that when an 
Indian, whom we never saw before, comes among us, 
and we find that he prays to God, we love him ex- 
ceedingly ? " The ready apostle improved the oppor- 
tunity to illustrate the principle of Christian love fur- 
ther, by mentioning the efforts made in their behalf 
by the friends of religion who lived thousands of 
miles off, across the great sea. 

Industry and piety were now fairly planted at 
Katick, and were putting forth the flowers and fruits 
of moral beauty, amidst all the wild loveliness of 
nature, and the untrained simplicity of man. In the 
rich words of a late writer, " As we pass, in fancy. 



856 DISCO VEKEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

out from the brick walls, narrow streets, and inter- 
rupted landscape of civilized life, with what imposing 
greatness bursts upon our thought the form of the un- 
adulterated savage, with his eye like an eagle's, his 
ear like the startled fawn's, and his step like the pan- 
ther of the wilderness. This is not sensualism, but 
the perfection of the sensuous nature ; it is the human 
form in harmonj with untroubled streams and un- 
broken forests — belonging, in no mean relation, to 
the picture that is arched by the receding heavens. 
But, graceful as power, agility, freedom, are, we in- 
stinctively feel how low a phase of humanity it is, 
compared with the intellectual vigor of the sage, or 
the moral princedom of the saint." The mind and 
soul of the Indian had begun to unfold under the as- 
siduous labor of Eliot, and his roving habits were 
slowly crystallizing into civilized forms. Even the 
young children, accustomed hitherto to bound with 
the wild antelopes, over their unlimited play-ground, 
and, in view of eternity, almost as soulless as their 
untamed pets, listened, like the child Samuel, and 
obeyed the calling voice of God. One infant angel 
of the wilderness, when offered its toys, while upon 
its death-bed, replied in sweet words, which seem al- 
most an inspired song : " I will leave my basket be- 
hind me, for I am going to God ; I will leave my 
spoon and tray behind me, for I am going to God," 
The little one was laid in the grave, without the 
beads, the shells, the wampum, and the food which 
the yearning affection of the Indian mother had al- 



JOHN ELIOT. S5T 

ways placed beside her dead, thinking to supply its 
wants when wandering without her in the spirit 
world. The missionary's message had given her 
courage and peace, in consigning her tender child to 
the arms of Christ. The superstitious burial customs 
which Eliot sought to set aside, need no comment, 
when the equally heathenish practice now so exten- 
sively exists in our beautifully designed cemeteries, 
of ornamenting the graves of children with the shoes, 
stockings, baby-bonnets, dolls, tea-sets, and rocking- 
horses, which occupied their bifsy lives. 

The year 1661 is memorable in the annals of 'New 
England, for the publication of Eliot's Indian transla- 
tion of the l^ew Testament; this, and the Indian Bible 
prepared by him, and printed two years afterwards, 
were the first published in the ISTew World — the print- 
ing of the English version being then a monopoly privi- 
lege in England. This most arduous work of transla- 
tion had extended through fifteen years, before Eliot 
could offer to the Indians a copy of God's word, in 
their own tongue. The language was Mohegan, 
which, in its many dialects, was spoken by all the ab- 
origines of New England. The first complete edition 
of the Bible, numbering fifteen hundred copies, cost 
over two thousand dollars. Out of his own limited 
means, Eliot saved some funds to this end, although 
the expense was chiefiy borne by the society in Eng- 
land. A printing-press was sent from London for the 
purpose ; and, for a long time, only an Englishman, 
a boy, and an Indian, named James Printer, were 



368 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

employed on the work. Copies of the first edition, 
beautifully bound, were presented to King Charles, 
and to distinguished men in the old country, among 
them Richard Baxter, who said, " Such a work and 
fruit of a plantation was never before presented to a 
king." Copies are very rare, one or two being in the 
library of Harvard College, and containing, besides 
the Testament, a catechism, and the Psalms of David, 
in Indian verse. The great number of cojjies printed, 
shows the wonderful extent of the missionary work 
in this country at that time. 

One of Eliot's works occasioned much disquietude 
in the colonies about this time. In the enthusiasm 
of Cromwell's revolution, he had written a book en- 
titled " The Christian Commonwealth," which con- 
demned the institution of kings, lords, and commons, 
as unchristian, and probably set forth his idea that 
the Bible is a complete political statute-book, no less 
than a spiritual revelation. On the restoration of 
Charles II., the New England colonies, already ob- 
jects of jealousy to the royalists, were alarmed lest 
Eliot's book would prejudice their interests with the 
king. The council at Boston condemned it, and de- 
manded of its author a recantation of its sentiments, 
which he yielded to. Eliot, like other men, had his 
faults and weaknesses, although his qualities were re- 
markably noble and symmetrical. His failings seem 
to have been the assertion of opinions, hasty or vision- 
ary, in civil matters, and his apparent inconsistency 
m a no less ready retraction of such opinions. It is 



JOHN ELIOT. 359 

one of the brightest virtues to confess immediately an 
error ; but if the fearless man, who trembled not at 
the threats of passionate sachems, was still convinced 
of the truth of his book, it appears a little strange 
that he so quickly cancelled it. Doubtless his abju- 
ration was from the same motives of expediency that 
influenced the council, and with a more particular 
anxiety for his Indian missions, which were supported 
by the mother country, and dependant on a renewal 
by the king of the charter of the society for their 
promotion. 

The uninformed are liable to think of Eliot as an 
obscure man, who wandered about with some vaga- 
bond tribe, during a few years, and not as the truly 
great leader of a great Christian movement, of which 
he was the main-spring, for some forty years. The 
difficulties of his work, from first to last, were inces- 
sant and extreme — especially in translating the Bible. 
Besides the work in his own parish of Roxbury, his 
journeys and preaching, his poverty, and a large 
family to care for and educate, he had to contend 
with a language poorly adapted to the expression of 
religious truth and civilized ideas, without a gram- 
mar and dictionary. An amusing instance of his em- 
barrassment is related. The best word he could get 
from the Indians to express the term "lattice," in a 
passage of Scripture, after trying to describe it to 
them, was one which he subsequently found to be a 
name for the wicker baskets, used in catching eels ; 
through this, the mother of Sisera was made to look 



360 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

for the coming of her son. The translation, generally, 
was, doubtless, very correct, and at last quite per- 
fect ; but it is sad to reflect that no person now living 
can read it. Yet, though both the language and 
those who spoke it, are long since dead, the Indian 
Bible was the bread of life to we know not how 
many souls now shining in Heaven. On earth it is 
an eloquent monument of a perseverance, industry, 
and pure zeal, never surpassed. In the words of Ed- 
ward Everett, " Since the death of the Apostle Paul, 
a nobler, truer, warmer spirit, than John Eliot, never 
lived ; and, taking the state of the country, the nar- 
rowness of the means, the rudeness of the age, into 
consideration, the history of the Christian church 
does not contain an example of resolute, untiring, 
successful labor, superior to that of translating the 
entire Scriptures into the language of the native tribes 
of Massachusetts." 

Besides the Bible, he translated several works for 
the use of his Indian people, and published a gram- 
mar, to aid the study of those who might wish to car- 
ry out his benevolent designs ; this work, together 
with the Mohegan Bible, has been found very valu- 
able, of late, in the scientific investigation of language. 
One of his smaller works was an " Indian Logick 
Primer ; " but it was not easy for the savages to be- 
come expert in logic and theology ; they readily ap- 
prehended the simple truths of the gospel, as famil- 
iarly illustrated by Eliot, and their unsophisticated 
hearts were, perhaps, all the better fitted to receive 



JOUW ELIOT. 3C1 

that divine illumination which is often blinded by 
scholastic words and systems. The Indian could not 
step directly out of loose ways of thought and life, 
into exact, methodical ones ; yet he could pass from 
one belief of the heart to another. A converted chief 
said of this, " I have been used, all my life, to pass 
up and down in an old canoe ; but I now give myself 
up to your advice, enter into a new canoe, and do en- 
gage to pray to God, hereafter," — a striking figure to 
which one of the company present, added, that in the 
old canoe, the stream was quiet, but the end destruc- 
tion, and, in the new one, storms might overtake him, 
but the end would be everlasting rest. 

In 1673, and the following year, the noble and 
venerable apostle of the Indians journeyed through 
the wilderness from one station to another, there be- 
ing fourteen in Massachusetts, beside those in Plym- 
outh, ISTantucket, and Martha's Vineyard. This last 
journey of Eliot's was fiiU of rich satisfaction to his 
ardent, enthusiastic soul. As, from time to time, he 
met the glad faces of the thirty -six hundred Christian 
natives, whom he had been instrumental in rousing 
from the thralldom of superstition and sin, he felt his 
courage and energy revive, and, forgetting the bur- 
den of laborious years that already enfeebled his steps, 
promised himself the joy of reaping a still greater 
harvest for his God. Hymns of gratitude went up 
from the forest sanctuaries, like sweet incense, and 
ihe eloquent voice of the aged and beloved teacher 
rang from the hills, with the tidings of love and mer- 
P 



362 DISCOVEKEKS AND TIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

cy which he could bring to them no more. The man- 
na which he thus scattered among his eager listeners, 
served to strengthen them for the hard trial to which 
God was soon to subject their faith. 

The settlement and church of ISTatick were espe- 
cially endeared to Eliot, as being the first embodiment 
of his favorite idea. Five churches beside the one 
established there, were the result of his untiring zeal ; 
and to provide for their future welfare, he had indu- 
ced two of his savage proteges to be educated at Har- 
vard University, thus leaving no means untried, of 
thoroughly enlightening and highly cultivating the 
Indian race. These two pupils, however, were not 
destined to fulfill his design. One of them was 
wrecked and murdered at N^antucket, and the other 
died of consumption, soon after graduating. The 
name of the latter is recorded, on the catalogue of the 
college, as Caleb Cheeshohteaumuck. JSTotwithstand- 
ing these melancholy events, the efibrt to educate the 
natives was continued. A brick building was erect- 
ed at Cambridge, with accommodations for twenty 
Indian students. But it proved of little avail. The 
young Mbhegans lost their athletic, robust nature, 
when taken from their roving life in the woods, and 
subjected to the close garments and staid demeanor 
of civilization, or found the change too sudden from 
wild, free thought, to the drill of study. Thus they 
either pined and died like caged birds, or sickened 
in heart and fled back to the enticing delights 
of the forest hunting-grounds. It was not then ap- 



JOHN ELIOT. 303 

predated that barbarism and civilization are in the 
blood, and tbe one can only be shaken off, and the 
other assumed, by the slow operation of education 
and grace in several generations. 

But the labor of years was destined to be suddenly 
arrested, and, in a great measure, defeated. King 
Philip's war — a general onslaught of the unevangel- 
ized India'iR — burst forth, and threw every thing 
into confusion. The particulars need not here be re- 
counted. The colonists, filled with a mad spirit of 
revenge and fear, and not appreciating either the faith 
or friendship of the Christian natives, broke up their 
half-civilized towns, and carried the innocent popu- 
lation to islands near Boston, where they were con- 
fined, lest they might take part with Philip. They 
suffered deeply from disappointment, insult, and pri- 
vation ; some of them, at Wamesit, were shot by a 
party of the English, who unjustly charged them with 
burning a barn. 

Thus debarred from the sympathy of the race for 
whose faith they had deserted their own people ; ar- 
rayed against those to whom they were connected by 
the strongest natm*al ties, yet rejected and abused by 
their adopted brothers, who should, rather, have pro- 
tected and encouraged them, it remains to the world 
an indisputable evidence of the true effects of the 
gospel, that they, almost without exception, exhibited 
a rare spirit of Christian endurance and forgiveness 
during those times of severe trial for which Eliot had 
uncionscously prepared them, in his last, unmolested 



364 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

tour through the wilderness, l^one, in whose piety 
he confided, renounced their faith ; none but a few of 
the less instructed natives at new stations, joined the 
enemy. Many of the friendly ones were of great 
service to the English in carrying on so unaccustomed 
a kind of warfare. But confidence between the 
white and the red men was never restored ; the ardor 
of an incipient work of civilization and conversion 
was thoroughly chilled ; but few praying villages were 
reestablished, and the prosperity of the missions was 
at an end. A great hope for the Indian race was for- 
ever blasted, although many were then strengthened 
and purified in heart by the fire of affliction. 

Eliot consoled his old age and disappointment by 
writing a life of Christ, and by endeavoring to rescue 
the captive Indians, who had been sold into "West In- 
dia slavery — an iniquity that aroused his whole in- 
dignation. He was encouraged by the hope of a 
successor, in the person of a young man who had 
devoted himself to the cause of the beloved natives. 
In a letter, written when he was eighty-four years old, 
after making the touching declaration — '^ I am draw- 
ing home " — he speaks hopefully of the great object 
to which his life had been a living sacrifice. He was 
gratified, also, in assisting to ordain an Indian teacher, 
who survived the death of Eliot twenty-six years, 
and whose grave-stone is now part of a stone wall 
near the church in South N^atick, in the vicinity 
of which place, a wretched hut, occupied by several 
persons of mingled Indian and negro blood, is all 



JOHN ELIOT. 365 

that is left of the once flourishing settlement of the 
devout children of the forest. 

Eliot was in advance of the times, in reforms, for 
he had very few supporters of the pure principles 
he vigorously exemplified in his own life, as well as 
preached to others. It was the universal custom in 
the colonies, to partake of spirituous liquors in a 
moderate degree. Eliot was often urged to refresh 
his weariness with the sparkling contents of the wine- 
glass. He invariably refused, for, said he, " wine is 
a noble, generous liquor, and we should be humbly 
thankful for it, but, as I remember, water was made 
before it." He also waged a continual war against 
tobacco, and the use of great, white wigs, though he 
lived to see many orthodox ministers, in the words 
of Cotton Mather, " ruffle their heads in excesses of 
this kind." 

Notwithstanding this opposition to the favorite 
prejudices of those with whom he mingled, he was 
generally beloved and respected, the more deeply for 
attaining to that simplicity and purity of life which 
they had not sufficient self-denial or strength of will 
to adopt. 

As the greatly good man grew more infirm, he re- 
linquished his pulpit duties, but was still cherished 
by his people, who assured him that his presence was 
worth more than gold. His strong frame tottered, 
and his kind eyes grew dim, but he was a sunshine in 
all the homes of the village. He was an old soldier 
of the cross, full of love, a peace-maker, and wise in 



3GG DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

counsel. Still looking for some good work to do, he 
interested himself in the neglected negro servants, 
and persuaded many families in the vicinity to send 
them to him once a week, for instruction. He also 
took under his care a blind boy, and taught him to 
repeat chapters of the Bible. A beautiful and noble 
picture ! — this silver-haired apostle of the Indians 
who had performed so great work, literary, missiona- 
ry and parish tasks, who was one of ISTew England's 
most influential, early divines, and had traversed a 
wide wilderness with unwearied perseverance for 
thirty years, now seated, in cheerful old age, teaching 
a poor, blind child, and a little company of despised 
Africans. 

As death approached, through no disease but the 
natural failing of his powers, he said, "Alas, I have 
lost every thing ; my understanding leaves me ; my 
memory fails me ; but, I thank God, my charity holds 
out still ; I find it rather grows than fails." As often 
in pious old age and death, his clear views of truth 
grew clearer and brighter. It was a peaceful depart- 
ure, with a long, sunny recollection of duty done, and 
the heaven of humble faith to await. The cause of 
the poor Indian lay heavy upon his heart, though he 
expressed a strong hope that the cloud which obscured 
his ardent work, would pass away, and leave the good 
seed to spring up with fresh vigor where it had been 
so ruthlessly trodden down. 

How different was the cry of " welcome joy ! " with 
whijh he beheld the angel of Death, from that of the 



JOHN ELIOT. 3G7 

unscrnpulous pioneers who had labored for fame in 
the forests of the ISTew World, and who submitted to 
the eternal summons, either in sullen silence or with 
a wail of despair and fear. They gloried in dia- 
monds and pearls, which were a glittering mockery 
in the death-hour — Eliot awaited his jeweled crown 
in another life, and, in imitation of his Saviour, made 
peace and good will to man his only strife in this. 

He died in 1690, aged eighty-six years. But two 
of his six children lived to mourn his death, and his 
wife had preceded him to the grave, after a long and 
useful pilgrimage with him. The Indians, to whom 
Eliot had been a tender father, and a generous friend, 
wept for his departure, and the English so reverenced 
him that they had a tradition that the colony could 
not perish so long as the good man lived. He was 
equally esteemed in England. Baxter, upon his 
death-bed, said of him, " There was no man on earth 
whom I honored above him." 



X. 

WILLIAM PENN. 

In the times of Charles 11,, the country-seat of Ad- 
miral Perm was the resort of many distinguished 
men and noblemen. The charm lay not in the broad 
fields, the wooded dells, and velvety lawns, that made 
Pennwood rich in beauty ; nor even the spacious old 
Hall of ancient and curious architecture, that told 
many a tale of olden times ; neither did the luxuri- 
ous style that prevailed at Pennwood form the chief 
attraction ; for, in these respects, it could not com- 
pete with the princely homes of the neighboring no- 
blemen. But in the magnetic charm of its home cir- 
cle, it exceeded them all. There was a frank cor- 
diality in the greetings of Admiral Penn, that con- 
vinced one of sincerity ; and a cheerful, varied, in- 
telligent tone in his conversation that made the hours 
pass quickly. He was firm, even to obstinacy, as was 
evinced in his career ; but the noblest trait of char- 
acter was an unyielding integrity — a rare quality in 
a public man, and one which, though often trouble- 
some to his compeers, secured universal respect and 
confidence. With devoted aft'ection, he reverenced 
his lovely wife ; and, though he did not sympathize 




WILLIAM PENN AND IllS FATHER. Page 37 T. 



WILLIAM PENN. 369 

witli her deep piety, he appreciated and respected 
what he saw daily shine forth in her life with beauti- 
ful consistency. Her mild and affectionate temper, 
with the simple elegance of her manner, won her 
many warm friends among the worldly and fashiona- 
ble, who might otherwise have avoided her, as too re- 
ligiously strict. 

To the care of such parents was given an only son, 
William Penn, who was born in 1644, in London. In 
his younger years he was left almost entirely to the 
guidance and instruction of his mother ; the ocean- 
life of the admiral occasioning long seasons of ab- 
sence. But when again reunited, heart-happiness 
dwelt in the family circle, as they gathered round the 
cheerful fire that crackled and blazed on the old, 
broad hearth, throwing a warm glow over the apart- 
ment. 

The admiral would sit by the hour, in the flicker- 
ing light, and answer the eager, thoughtful questions 
of his idol boy. He could not resist the coaxing, lov- 
ing tones, and he gazed with pride upon the child's 
beautiful, rosy, dimpled face, as he sat at his feet, or 
upon his knee. Sometimes he told him of the ocean, 
and the great battles he had fought on the wide wa- 
ters, and grew enthusiastic as he recounted his ex- 
ploits, painting them in such life-like colors, that the 
child shuddered and paled as he heard of the wrecks 
and awful storms. Or, when the story dwelt upon an 
instance of injustice and cruelty, the blood rushed to 
his cheeks in a burning tide, and his eyes sparkled 
P* 24 



370 DISCO VEEERS AND PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

with indignation. Then he listened to the tale of 
battles, when amidst fire and smoke, and the thunder- 
ing of cannons, came tlie death-shrieks ; or of a ship 
with its soldier-seanjen, torn limb from limb, and 
hurled high in the air ; and then, amidst frightful suf- 
fering, sinking forever in the blood-stained waves. 

Tears of sympathy and grief rolled over the cheeks 
of little William at the recital, and amid his sobs he 
cried — 

" When I 'm a man, I '11 never kill people so." 

The admiral raised his brows at the unconscious 
rebuke, and he folded the little peace-boy in his arms, 
to still the storm he had awakened. With returning 
smiles brightening his face, the child flew to his 
mother, who, near by, had watched the emotion of the 
child, and regarded it a fruitful source of instruction. 
That gentle, pious mother ! With what watchful care 
she moulded the young heart entrusted to her keep- 
ing ! With what prayerful devotion she attuned to 
pleasant tones, the little harp God had given her ; for 
with such gifts comes the power to awaken harsh dis- 
cords, or beautiful harmony. But William's educa- 
tion was not neglected by the admiral, when at home, 
for he also strove to instill high and honest principles 
into the mind of the child. 

It is related that William was roaming the fields 
one day, when he found one of his father's tenants, a 
poor man, named Thomas Pearce, hard at work with 
his cart, having been called to assist in some emer- 
gency. William was very fond of Tom, and he was 



WILLIAM PENlSr. 871 

troubled when he saw great drops rolling down the 
laborer's cheeks ; so he ran with haste to the admi- 
ral, saying — • 

" Father, ain't you going to pay poor Tom Pearce 
for working so hard for you ? " 

" What makes you ask that, William ? " 

" Because, lather, I think you ought to pay him." 

" Why so, my son ? " 

" Because I don't see why he should work so hard 
for nothing." 

" Well, I dare say, William, I shall pay him." 

" But, father, if you don't pay him money, I '11 tell 
you what you ought to do." 

" What, my son ? " 

" Why, father, if poor Tom comes to want any work 
done, you should send your wagon to help him." 

" My cart you mean, William, for you see I have 
only his cart." 

" Yes, father, but your wagon is not so much larger 
than his cart, as you are richer than poor Tom." 

"God bless my son!" cried the admiral, embra- 
cing him ; " I hope you '11 be a brave, honest-hearted 
Englishman, as long as you live." 

The proud father had high hopes for his son, and 
his favorite castle-building was to fancy the rosy- 
cheeked boy transformed to a man of eminence and 
distinguished talent, filling with honor the most influ- 
ential posts in the realm. Time traveled not so fast 
as the admiral's imagination, for William was yet in 
his ninth year. At this period he was sent to a gram- 



372 DISCOVEEEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

mar-school at Chigwell, near one of his father's es- 
tates, and selected by his mother, because it was con- 
ducted by a clergyman of eminent piety. The reli- 
gious instructions of his mother were not forgotten 
during his absence, but were treasured with reverence, 
as the earnest injunctions of her he so well loved. 

At the age of fifteen, "William entered Oxford Col- 
lege, with bright prospects. He quickly became a 
general favorite, both on account of his brilliant tal- 
ents, and his many noble qualities, and soon received 
the highest honors of the University. His cho- 
sen companions were of the same serious bent of 
mind with himself; among them was John Locke, 
who remained a faithful and tried friend throughout 
the vicissitudes of Penn's life. These young men, 
hearing of a Quaker meeting about to be held, de- 
termined to attend, partly from curiosity, as the name 
of the preacher, Thomas Loe, was given, without any 
pompous titles attached, which were so universal in 
those days that a departure therefrom caused sur- 
prise. The appointed time came, and found William 
in the place of worship. He looked with no little as- 
tonishment upon the plain apartment, and still plain- 
er people that filled it, so difierent from the estab- 
lished church, to which he had always been accus- 
tomed. Nor was his surprise lessened when he be- 
held in Thomas Loe, " a plain, fleshy, round-faced 
man, in a broad-brimmed hat, a drab coat of the hum- 
blest cloth and cut, and a- close, snug neck-cloth, all 
shining, clean and neat." 



WILLIAM PENN. 373 

At first, Penn's attention was fixed by the simple 
quaintness of his language ; but soon, the sincere, 
touching words that fell from his lips in eloquent ap- 
peals, went searchingly to his heart ; and as he lis- 
tened, he was sure the way was appointed to him of 
which he had long been dreaming — to lead a simple, 
pure life, in the service of his Maker, and for the 
good of his fellow-creatures. Again and again he 
sought the Quaker meeting-house, and listened to the 
afiectipnate and fatherly teachings of Thomas Loe. 
His conscience was fully awakened, but his course 
undecided ; and in his perplexity, he went to one of 
the learned divines of the college. He laughed at 
his " fanaticism," and bade him " keep to the good, 
old church, hear sermons, and take the sacrament, 
and all would be well." William obeyed the direc- 
tions, but his conscience could not be silenced ; he 
was more dissatisfied than ever with the formal 
ceremonies of the church, and the worldly, fashiona- 
ble throng who professed to worship God. 

Again he returned to the Quaker meeting, and de- 
termined to adhere to their principles, despite the 
sneers and scorn of his fellow-students, and the world 
at large. He, and a few of his companions, held 
meetings by themselves, and adopted a plain mode 
of dress. Their absence from public service was no- 
ticed by the professors ; upon learning the cause, they 
were immediately summoned before the faculty, and 
" for assembling themselves together to worship God 
contrary to law," were severely fined. More serious 



374 DISCOVEEERS AND PIONEERS OF AjVIEEICA. 

consequences followed their newly-awakened ardor. 
One day, they met a few gay young men of the col- 
lege, who were attired in a foppish, extravagant style, 
or, as some have it, in the long, black gowns, pecu- 
liar to the forms of England. Penn and his friends 
expostulated with them, and advised them to dis- 
pense with what was unbecoming and unchristian. 
In return, receiving only derision and contempt, they 
forgot their Quaker principles, furiously rushed upon 
them, and tore the dresses from their shoulders. 
They were speedily called to account, and, among 
others, William Penn was formally expelled from 
college. 

Unwilling that the mortifying news should reach 
his parents from other lips than his own, he hastened 
to them with a heavy heart. He arrived at Penn- 
wood, and presented himself with a firm, but troub- 
led air. How great was their astonishment to behold 
their son before them in a full suit of Quaker drab, 
and a broad beaver concealing his fine brow ! His 
usually cheerful face was clouded, but he stood with 
meek aspect in their presence. With exclamations 
of surprise, they gazed upon him. 

" What does this mean ? What is the matter ? 
Why are you here ? " were the hasty inquiries. He 
replied with determined calmness, 

" I am expelled from college ! " 

The admiral started from his chair, his face flushed 
with anger, and to his eager questions of the why and 
wherefore, William answered — 



WILLIAM PENN. 375 

" Why, sir, it was because I tore their dresses from 
the shoulders of some of the students." 

" You tore the dresses ftom the shoulders of the 
students ! Why, God's mercy on my soul ! what had 
you to do with their dresses ? " 

" Why, father," answered William, " their dresses 
were so fantastical and unbecoming to the dignity of 
Englishmen and the society of Christians, that I felt 
it a duty to my country and conscience to bear my 
testimony against them ; and, moreover, I was as- 
sisted in it by Robert Spencer, John Locke, and other 
discreet youths of the college." 

" Well, thank God ! thank God it 's no worse," ex- 
claimed Mrs. Penn. 

" You are thankful for small favors, madam," was 
the admiral's sharp rejoinder. 

A long discussion ensued, which only excited the 
admiral, and in no way altered the opinions of young 
Penn. His father's patience was exhausted, and, full 
of disappointment and anger, he exclaimed : 

" Here 's a pretty ending of all the bright castles 
I 've for years been building in the air for this boy ! 
A lad of genius — getting a complete college educa- 
tion — the only child of a British adniiral — ■ great 
friends at court — the high-road to preferment all 
ahoy before him, and yet determined to turn his back 
on all, and live and die a poor, despised Quaker ! 
Why, God's mercy on my soul, boy ! you, who might 
have been among the first in the realm ! If to the 
army, a general ; if to the navy, an admiral ; if to 



376 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AJVIERICA. 

law, a chief justice ; if to medicine, a court physician ; 
to divinity, a bishop or lord primate ; and now, with 
all these grand prizes under your guns, you will haul 
down your colors, and, in a three-buttoned drab, and 
broad beaver, go sneaking about the world, or sit, 
twirling your thumbs, at a silent meeting, with Tom 
Loe, a superstitious blockhead, no more to be com- 
pared with one of our learned divines, than a Dutch 
cock-boat to a British line-of-battle-ship ! " 

William attempted to expostulate, but his father 
angrily interrupted him with — 

" Harkee, young man ! I know you have a clear 
head and a fluent tongue ; but in such a cause as this 
I don't wish to hear them. All I have to say is, let 
me know to-morrow if you will go back to the Uni- 
versity, and do as I desire, or not ; and, take notice, 
sirrah, if you do not, you are no longer a son of mine, 
and never again shall you darken my door." 

Mrs. Penn looked on with painful emotions ; and 
she now accompanied William, to use her influence 
with him. But she could not rebuke the pure Chris- 
tian sentiments that seemed to breathe from his inmost 
heart, although clothed in a new aspect. She did 
not, therefore, attempt to persuade him to relinquish 
his adopted religion. 

His determination was fixed. The next morning, 
when summoned to his father's presence, to give his 
final decision, he replied to all entreaties with char- 
acteristic firmness, yet with the meekness of an hon- 
est Quaker, that " he had turned his thoughts to the 



WILLIAM PENN. 377 

light within ; and that while he felt, with exceeding 
affection, how much he owed to his earthly father, 
he owed still more to his heavenlj, and, therefore, 
could not offend Him, by sinning against the light, 
and endangering his own soul." 

" Well, then, you will not go back to the estab- 
lished church," replied the admiral. 

" "While my present convictions remain, I can never 
leave the Quakers." 

"Then, sir," rejoined the admiral, in stormy wrath, 
" you must leave me ; " and ordered him to quit the 
house instantly. 

He obeyed without words, and went immediately 
to his grandmother's, according to his mother's ad- 
vice ; for she well knew the result. William re- 
mained but a short time at the elegant mansion of his 
excellent, pious relative ; for his father had not enjoy- 
ed a moment's peace since his harshness towards his 
idolized son. He had paced the floor for hours, and 
angered, and wept even, at the sudden downfall of 
his plan. With a faint hope of influencing his son, 
he recalled him, to the great joy of the whole 
household. 

Hearing that a number of young men of rank were 
about making a trip to Paris, he j)roposed that Wil- 
liam should accompany them, and remain long enough 
to acquire the French language ; but, with a secret 
hope that a sojourn with a gay and fascinating peo- 
ple, would wear off his exceeding gravity, as well as 
conquer his "fanaticism." William acquiesced, and 



378 DISC0\T2RERS AND TIONEEES OF AMEKICA. 

was soon generously fitted out with a wardrobe of the 
richest materials, though, as he insisted, of " plain 
fashion." Abundantly provided with money, and let- 
ters to distinguished men, he set out, with his pleas- 
ure-seeking companions, for Paris. 

Being naturally of a warm-hearted disposition, and 
always exerting himself to give others happiness, he 
received with keen pleasure the kindness and little at- 
tentions, which the French know so well how to be- 
stow. Their powers of pleasing, so skillfully exer- 
cised, delighted him, and he soon participated in the 
festivities of the capital, with as much zeal as his 
father could desire. "He learned their language 
with the facility of a mocking-bird ; he caught their 
manners by instinct ; his limbs forgot their proud, 
British stiffness, and his muscles their cold, unlovely 
rigidity ; and whether he bowed or smiled — in stand- 
ing, moving, bowing, or smiling, shone forth the ele- 
gant and all accomplished Frenchman." 

A year passed in a round of fashionable dissipation, 
to the great delight of his father ; for he now felt 
there would be no obstacles to his son's advancement. 
Joyful preparations were made for his return to Penn- 
wood. Distinguished and mirthful guests were invi- 
ted to the Hall, to participate in the continued fes- 
tivities, which were to follow his arrival. He came 
at last. ]^ever, in the moments of his proudest vic- 
tories, did the admiral feel such emotions of pleasure, 
as when he greeted his long-absent son, and beheld 
him transformed into an elegant, accomplished young 



WILLIAM PEICN. 



man. The noble and intellectual expression of his 
countenance was relieved from severity by a smile of 
tenderness and benevolence, which, added to a bril- 
liant mind and graceful manner, finished by a Qua- 
ker sweetness, made him a welcome guest in the cir- 
cles of fashion, as well as of the cultivated. 

Mrs. Penn's ambition for the worldly success of her 
son was more than gratified, and she had long felt a 
deep anxiety lest the promising piety of his youth 
had fled with his boyhood. The admiral saw it, but 
took good care to keep William constantly occupied ; 
and, at the earliest moment, hastened to introduce 
him at court, and to his most illustrious friends. 

ISTot long after his return from France, he was ad- 
mitted as a law-student at Lincoln's Inn, where he re- 
mained till his twenty-second year. During this time, 
his society was courted, and most flattering attentions 
were paid him, but in no wise detracted from the sim- 
plicity of his character, nor caused him to swerve 
from the pure principles which had grown with his 
growth. But the admiral was continually fearful lest 
he should fall into his " old gloomy ways " again ; 
and, therefore, upon inheriting a large estate, near 
Dublin, immediately determined to commit its man- 
agement to William. This step, to his great chagrin, 
proved the occasion of his finally adhering to the 
cause of the Quakers. 

He soon set out for Dublin. To insure him a vari- 
ety of dissipation, the admiral provided him with let- 
ters from court friends, introducing him in most flat- 



3S0 DiscoYEErrr- akd piokeees of America. 

tering terms to the Lord-Lieutenant of Dublin, and 
otljers of rank Accordingly, he received uncommon 
attentions from distinguished families, both on ac- 
count of his talents and his rank. He paid strict at- 
tention to the improvement of the estate consigned to 
his care, and spent his leisure with the lord-lieuten- 
ant and his friends, till one evening, while perusing a 
Dublin paper, his attention was caught by a notice 
that " one of the people called Quakers was to preach 
in the market-house the next day." He determined 
to attend the meeting ; for his partiality to the 
sect had never decreased, though he had for some 
time conformed to the established church. 

"What was his surprise to behold in the speaker, 
the kind and placid countenance of his old friend, 
Thomas Loe, and the good Quaker was no less jjjeased 
to see his familiar face, though alarmed to see him 
attired in fashionable dress. Every word spoken by 
the preacher went to his heart and conscience, and 
his old desire for a sinij)le, pure religion, like the one 
urged to his acceptance, returned with new strength. 
At the closing of the meeting, an interview took 
place, the result of which was his continued attend- 
ance upon the meetings ; he conformed to the doc- 
trines with a firmness of purpose never again shaken. 
He relinquished all intercourse with the Irish nobil- 
ity, and completely altered his life. 

The Quakers were, at this time, strongly persecu- 
ted. On one occasion, Penn, with a number of 
others, was arrested at a meeting in Cork, and car- 



WILLIAM PENN. 381 

ried before the mayor, who committed them all to 
prison. By the influence of his Irish friends. Penn 
was soon released. 

News of liis retnrn to the Quakers, and his impris- 
onment, quickly reached his father. He was instant- 
ly remanded home by the enraged admiral. He 
promptly obeyed the summons, but with a heavy 
heart ; he well knew the storm of opposition that 
awaited him. As he journeyed homeward, he com- 
muned with the "inward light," and gained strength 
to endure the trials before him. He knew, in follow- 
ing the promptings of his conscience, he would be 
banished from his father's house, and must go forth 
to the world, poor, neglected, scorned, persecuted. 
But he remembered for what he gave up all ; and a 
holy zeal burned in his heart, and beamed in his 
countenance with serene happiness. It was thus he 
reached the beautiful home of his boyhood. A 
mournful sadness clouded his joy, as he gazed upon 
the wild, rich scenery that su rounded him, and look- 
ed with dimmed eyes upon the familiar old Hall, so 
vividly recalling the days of his youth — feeling that 
he would soon be a wanderer from that loved home. 
And his mother ! oh, his beloved mother ! How he 
dreaded the pain such a separation would cause them 
both ! He paced back and forth beneath the spread- 
ing elms, and strove to subdue the struggle which 
had roused the whole soul of his deep affections. 

" Oh, God, not my will, but thine, be done," was 
his prayer ; and, after silent meditation, those pain- 



3 82 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

fill emotions were calmed, and once more, with a 
radiant countenance and light step, he sought his 
parents. 

There he stood : "William Penn, in his quaint Qua- 
ker garh, amidst the luxury which might have been 
his own. His mother uttered an exclamation of joy, 
embracing him with the deepest affection. The ad- 
miral did not move ; he stood with folded arms, and 
flushed face, eyeing his offending son, from his wide 
beaver to the plain shoe, with contemptuous looks. 

" And so Tom Loe has taken you in tow, and made 
a fool of you again, eh ? " was his greeting, at last. 

A discussion followed, full of anger on the admi- 
ral's part, but eliciting only calm replies. Mrs. Penn 
listened with anxious solicitude. Tears of joy filled 
her eyes, and her heart overflowed with gratitude 
to God, that strength was given him to endure even 
persecution, in obeying the dictates of his conscience. 

" My son," said she, " I weep not for any crime 
that you have committed, but rather for joy of your 
innocence, and honest adherence to what you think 
your duty." 

What consolation those few words gave him ! 

Days and weeks passed, and still the admiral strove, 
by every inducement, to conquer the firmness of Will- 
iam's convictions, but in vain. He could not bear to 
drive him away, and would have conceded to his plain 
speech, dress, and deportment, if he would but con- 
sent to uncover his head in the presence of the king, 
the Duke of York, (afterwards James II.) and himself; 



WILLIAM PENN. 383 

but finding "William unyielding, even in this, he no 
longer restrained himself, and, in a storm of passion, 
ordered him to leave the house forever. He obeyed, 
and with sadness in the parting, said — 

" Father, if I had been turned out of doors because 
of any crime I had done, I should be wretched, in- 
deed. But thanks to God ! I go away with a con- 
science unstained by any act which should cause you 
or my dear mother to blush for me." 

He bade his noble mother a tearful farewell, and 
as he departed from them, they listened to his foot- 
steps till they died away in the distance, feeling an 
oppressive loneliness which tears could not relieve. 
From that hour, the admiral lost his jocose spirits, 
and became restless, fretful, and gloomy. His ambi- 
tion for his only son had been bitterly disappointed, 
and he knew not how to find peace, for even the sad 
countenance of his wife reproached him. Hoping for 
relief in the excitement of public action, he sought 
the honors of victorious battle, ^,nd ventured upon 
the sea in searcii of a happiness he no longer enjoyed 
in the once cheeriui home at Pennwood, 

Meanwhile, young Penn repaired to London, and 
became a member of the Society of Friends. He 
employed himseii for some time in defending their 
doctrines by writing ; but soon an offensive article 
appeared from nis pen, which caused his immediate 
arrest, and imprisonment in the Tower. His cheer- 
fulness did not lorsake him there. "With pious resig- 
nation, he endurea all the sufferings inflicted upon 



38i DISCOVEKEES AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

him. Even liis harsh jailor was won from his preju- 
dices, when, in return for his rudeness, he always re- 
ceived a kind remonstrance. His hardness of heart 
was penetrated, and long before the seven months of 
Penn's imprisonment expired, he learned to respect 
the stern integrity of his prisoner, and to look with 
awe and admiration upon his serene and youthful 
countenance, ever beaming with purity and benign 
love. There was music in his simple language, and 
the gentle "thee "and "thou" fell with such soothing 
tones upon the ear of the rough guard, that, in spite 
of his hatred to the sect, he often sat and listened to 
the mild teachings of the persecuted Quaker. 

The admiral was still absent ; but Mrs. Penn, upon 
hearing of her son's imprisonment, ordered her car- 
riage, and hastily proceeded to London. When she 
arrived before the dark walls of the prison, her soul 
sickened with the thought of seeing there, among a 
host of criminals, her innocent and only child. She 
followed the shuffling steps of her guide through the 
gloomy corridors, and up the winding staircase, with 
a heart beating with sorrow and indignation. She 
shuddered as she passed by the cells of the poor, hard- 
ened wretches, who had almost forgotten there is a 
God; and when her way led through apartments 
crowded with men, women, and children, placed there 
because of their peculiar religion, she could not re- 
strain her tears of grief and sympathy. Almost 
overcome by conflicting emotions, she reached the 
sought-for place. The key rattled in the rusty lock, 



WILLIAM PEKX. 385 

and the iron door swung lieavilj back. There young 
Penn sat, near the high, grated window, occupied as 
diligently with his pen and studies, as if free ; but, 
upon beholding his mother, he sprang forward, and 
received her with an affectionate embrace. When 
her calmness was restored, anxious inquiries followedj 
to which he replied with so much cheerfulness, that 
she was comforted by the interview, and left him with 
a strong hope of soon obtaining his release. 

But weary months elapsed ere he gained his liberty. 
He was finally released by the king, at the instigation 
of the Duke of York, who entertained a friendship for 
the admiral. Penn was now restored to his father's 
good will. He very soon made a short visit to Ire- 
land, to attend to the business of his estates. His 
leisure time was occupied in visiting and preaching 
to the imprisoned Quakers of Dublin and Cork, 
whose liberty he soon obtained through the influence 
of his various friends at court. He well knew how 
to sympathize with the many sufferers, for his own 
imprisonment was so frequent, that it is said, on one 
occcasion, when a file of soldiers was ordered to 
guard him to the Tower, Penn sarcastically said to 
the judge, " Thee need not send thy soldiers, send 
thy boy ; I know the way." 

Not long after his return to England, he again felt 
the bitterness of persecution and injustice. The Con- 
venticle Act had just been passed by Parliament, 
which prohibited Dissenters from worshiping in their 
own way. William Penn was one of the first victims ; 
Q 25 



3S6 DISCO VEREKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

for no law or threats could deter him from what he 
deemed his dutj. He continued to preach, as usual, 
and, on going with his friends, to their meeting-house 
in Grace-church street, to perform divine worship, 
he found it guarded by a band of soldiers. A large 
number of the society being gathered, and not obtain- 
ing admittance, Penn began to address them where 
they were. He had not proceeded far in his discourse 
when he was arrested, and, together with William 
Mead, a Friend, was sent to Newgate to await a trial. 
When the appointed day arrived, the court was 
crowded with an assembly, waiting eagerly the ap- 
pearance of the prisoners. They entered without re- 
moving their hats, whereat one of the officers snatched 
them off. The lord mayor became furious at the 
act, and ordered them to be replaced, and then fined 
the prisoners forty marks each, for contempt of court. 
Being brought to the bar, the indictment was read, 
which, among other legal falsehoods, stated that the 
prisoners had preached to a " riotous assembly, and 
they had met together with force and arms, and this 
to the great terror and disturbance of many of his 
majesty's liege subjects." The prisoners plead "not 
guilty " to the charge. The witnesses, upon being 
examined, could prove nothing but that William Penn 
was seen speaking to an assemblage on a certain day, 
but could not tell what he said, on account of the 
noise. It was also proved that Mead said something, 
but . nobody could tell what. This was the substance 
of the evidence against them. 



WILLIAM PENN. 387 

Penn defended himself so clearly and ably, that he 
baffled the wily recorder, who opposed him, in every 
point. Notwithstanding, the incensed court hurried 
away the prisoners to a loathsome dungeon, and pro- 
ceeded to charge the jury. Penn, hearing part of the 
false charge, stopped, and loudly appealed to the jury 
and crowded assembly, to judge of the injustice and 
violation of law, in charging the jury in the absence 
of the prisoners. A murmur of approval ran through 
the close crowd, but his daring incensed his persecu- 
tors the more. He was ordered away with the rest, 
to strict confinement. 

The jury brought in a verdict of " not guilty," but 
were received with threats and abuse by the judges. 
Seven times they were sent out, and seven times they 
returned the same verdict. I^ot one of the twelve 
would yield his convictions, despite the brutal threats 
of the bench. Two days and two nights, they were 
kept without any kind of refreshment ; but these up- 
right men were neither to be starved nor frightened 
into the support of injustice. The greatest excite- 
ment prevailed. Some abused, some applauded them. 
The rage of the judges was beyond control, yet the 
jurymen remained firm. Once more, a separate an- 
swer was required from each, which being still un- 
changed, the recorder addressed them : 

" Gentlemen of the jury : I am sorry you have 
followed your own judgments, rather than the good 
advice-which was given you. God keep my life out 



888 DISCOVEKERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

of your hands ! But, for this, the court fines you 
forty marks a man, and imprisonment till paid." 

"William Penn then exclaimed : " I demand my 
liberty, being freed by the jury." 

" No, you are in for your fines," replied the mayor. 

"Fines for what?" 

" For contempt of court," was the short reply. 

Once more Penn defended himself with ability and 
strength. The spectators could scarcely restrain their 
admiration of his eloquence and talent, and those who 
were prejudiced against him, forgot their dislike in 
looking upon his benign and noble countenance, and 
in listening to his skillful defense, and exposure of the 
dishonorable proceedings. A thrill of sympathy re- 
sponded to his appeal to honest-hearted Englishmen, 
and many beheld, with provoked ire, Penn and the 
unyielding j urymen led away to Newgate. How long 
the latter were suffered to remain, or what became 
of these men, whose names should have glowed in 
history, is not known. 

The admiral returned from sea with a broken con- 
stitution, and suffering from a disease that was rapidly 
bearing him to the grave. He heard of his son's im- 
prisonment with surprise. This, more than all else, 
served to blight his ambition ; for, after a life, and 
nearly his fortune, spent in the service of his king and 
country, that his only son should be thrust into prison 
like a common felon, when guilty of no crime but 
obeying his conscience, stung him to the quick, and 
he felt that the religion which could persecute with such 



WILLIAM PENN. 339 

severity and injustice, could not be as pure and holy 
as the one which suffered and endured with cheerful 
firmness and meek forgiveness. His affections yearned 
for the presence of his loved son, and he longed to 
repair tho harshness and wrong he had done him. 
Penn's release was soon obtained, and, for the last 
time, the family were reunited at Pennwood. The 
spirit of the proud father was bowed to the dust, and, 
now that worldly ambition no longer blinded him, 
he regarded his son's conduct in a far different light. 
"What once seemed to him willful obstinacy, now 
proved to be a stern integrity, and a truthful heart 
which would in no way belie itself. He no longer 
refused to give his blessing ; and though he could 
not adopt the peculiar belief of his son, he regarded 
it with generous and enlightened views ; for a new. 
Christian fervor burned in his own soul, and as death 
drew near, he wondered at the entire devotion of his 
life and talents to his king, rather than to his God. 
As his eyes grew dim and his voice faint, he thus ad- 
dressed his son, whom he now loved with redoubled 
affection and new hope : 

" Son "William, I am weary of the world ! I would 
not live my days over again, if I could command them 
with a wish ; for the snares of life are greater than the 
fears of death. Let nothing in this world tempt you 
to wrong your conscience. I charge you, do nothing 
against your conscience. So will you keep your 
peace at home, which will be a feast to you in the 
day of trouble." 



390 DISCOVEEEES AND PIONEEKS OF ALIEEICA. 

He sent, as a dying request, an earnest message to 
tlie Duke of York, to protect his son, and to ask the 
King to do the same, in case of future persecution, 
which was readily promised. 

The admiral died in his forty -ninth year, 1670, 
leaving to William Penn a handsome estate of fifteen 
thousand dollars per annum, besides a large debt due 
from the Crown. So far from appropriating it to lux- 
urious habits, he continued his extremely plain style 
of living, devoting much of his fortune to the benefit 
of the Quakers ; often releasing numbers of them by 
paying the heavy fines imposed upon them. Once 
more he suffered an imprisonment of six months in the 
Tower; and, after his release, traveled several months 
through Germany and Holland, with the intention of 
disseminating more widely the doctrines of the Soci- 
ety of Eriends. 

William Penn was now in his twenty-sixth year 
Celebrated, not only as an author and preacher, but 
as a young man of rank, wealth, fine personal ap- 
pearance, brilliant talents, and rare virtues — who had 
suffered imprisonment and sacrificed much for his re- 
ligion — no wonder that his name rang far and near. 
The fashionable regretted the loss of such a star from 
their circle, and pitied his " fanaticism." His own 
sect reverenced him for his stern virtues, soul-stirring 
eloquence, and liberal sympathies with their suffer- 
ings ; while the opposers of their religion most thor- 
oughly hated and persecuted him. 

He was, at this time, well known by reputation to 



WILLIAM PENN. 391 

Gulielma Springett, whom he married not long after 
his return from a European tour. She was the daugh- 
ter of Sir "William Springett, of Darling, in Sussex, 
who had fallen at the siege of Bamber, during the 
civil wars, in the service of Parliament. After his 
death, her mother married Sir Isaac Penington, an 
eminent minister and writer among the Quakers. She 
was, therefore, educated in their doctrines, and her 
character ever retained a sweet impress of them. Her 
face was very fair ; but, though beautiful in form and 
feature, she was still more lovely in disposition. Dig- 
nity and simplicity were blended in her manner, and 
her cheerful, affectionate temper made her the attrac- 
tion of her circle. 

Her home did not escape the sorrows of persecu- 
tion. In her girlhood, she saw her revered step-father 
dragged away to prison, where he suffered close con- 
finement for months, and was treated with extreme 
severity ; and she saw him waste away and die with 
a disease occasioned by the cruelty of his oppressors. 
But the lessons he gave were not unregarded, and 
those scenes served to strengthen and nerve her for 
greater trials, and taught her how to bring under con- 
trol every passion of her nature. Such was the gen- 
tle bride of William Penn ; and two minds and 
hearts never sympathized more perfectly. Tlieir 
affection was unbroken and unchilled, till.Death laid 
his icy fingers upon her heart, and stilled its beatings. 
Many years were lighted by the sunshine of her love, 
and the early days of their marriage, free from sor- 



892 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

row and persecution, were spent happily in their new 
home at Rickmansworth. However, Penn was not 
idle, here. He might now have been a gentlemen at 
leisure, with an ample fortune ; but his conscience 
ever called him to action. His time was spent in 
writing and preaching, till converts to his doctrine 
became so numerous in his neighborhood, as to alarm 
Richard Baxter, who considered them a lost people, 
and entered into a public controversy with Penn. 

The following year, Gulielma Maria accompanied 
her husband to Bristol, where they unexpectedly met 
the celebrated George Fox, just returned from Mary- 
land, America. Persecution still raged fiercely against 
the Quakers ; but Penn continued to preach as usual. 
He here parted from his friend, George Fox, who pro- 
ceeded on his way home to his mother, then on her 
death-bed, but, having occasion to j)reach at Worces- 
ter, was arrested and committed to prison, where he 
was kept for several months, till, through the inter- 
cession of Penn, he obtained his release. 

In 1676, Penn accidentally became a manager of 
colonial concerns in New Jersey, which situation pro- 
duced important results, as his mind was thus direct- 
ed towards America as an asylum for the persecuted 
Quakers, though he did not immediately act upon the 
thought. Part of the next year was also occupied in 
managing the affairs of ISTew Jersey. After this, he, 
in company with George Fox and Robert Barclay, set 
out on a ministerial visit to Holland and Germany. 
He had received letters from eminent persons there, 



WILLIAM PENN. 393 

urging his visit ; and, after some delay, bade adieu to 
his beloved wife and child, and also paid a farewell 
visit to his mother, who had remained at Pennwood 
since the death of the admiral. 

Penn and his friends finally set sail in a packet, 
where they were pleasantly accommodated, the Cap- 
tain having served under Admiral Penn. After ar- 
riving at their destination, and lauding, they proceed- 
ed to Rotterdam, and from thence to the chief cities 
in Holland and Germany, preaching and distributing 
books. At Horwerden, Elizabeth, Princess of the 
Rhine, held her Court. She had ofiered an asylum in 
her kingdom to the persecuted, and, being inclined to 
favor the Quakers, had invited Penn to visit her and 
explain the principles of their belief. The Countess 
of Homes, who lived with her as a companion, was 
also of a serious mind, and earnestly desired an inter- 
view. Penn and his two companions repaired to 
the palace one morning at seven, and were received 
by the princess with such marks of kindness as deeply 
affected them. The habits of the princess were ex- 
tremely simple. Early rising, with breakfast at seven, 
dinner at one, and supper at seven, were customs 
widely different from those of the aristocratic in mo- 
dern days. "Without ostentation or proud reserve, 
she appeared in her robes of state, which became her 
dignity without detracting from the good nature and 
overflowing goodness of heart, at all times manifested 
for the good of her subjects. She received her 
strange, but deeply-reverenced guests with frank cor- 
Q* 



Slii DISCO VEEEKS Aiin PIONEEES OF AMERICA. 

dialitj, which at once secured their confidence and 
ease. The morning hours were spent in religious 
conversation ; after which, though invited to dine, they 
excused themselves and withdrew. 

In the afternoon they again returned to the palace, 
where a number were assembled to listen to them. 
Quaker worship was held with much interest till 
seven in the evening, when they retired, but were in- 
vited to repeat their visit the next day. 

They were not received till nine the following mor- 
ning, it being the day on which the princess received 
addresses and petitions. A meeting was then held, 
which all the inferior servants of the household were 
ordered to attend. Penn gave a full account of his 
life, at her request, which occupied him till late in 
the evening, they having supped at the palace. The 
next and last day, another meeting was held, during 
which the princess was so deeply affected, that when 
she bade Penn farewell she could scarce find utter- 
ance to her words. 

Penn, with his friends, continued their travels, of- 
ten meeting with kindness, and preaching at every 
opportunity, and seeking out the religiously in- 
clined. On making inquiries, they heard of a young 
countess, the daughter of the Graef or Earl of Fal- 
chensteyn, who was severely treated by her father, 
on account of the religious bias of her mind. Learn- 
ing that she spent her Sabbaths at the house of the 
minister of Mulheim, they hastened to see her, but 
arrived too late to find her. They wrote her a letter, 



WILLIAM PENN. 395 

requesting to see lier; to wliicli she replied, "she 
would willingly meet them at her minister's house, 
but she was not her own mistress." 

Soon after this, as they were walking near the cas- 
tle, the Graef came out and met them. Observing 
their strange dress, he inquired who they were ; to 
which they courteously replied. As they paid no 
homage to him, his attendants asked — 

" Do you know in whose presence you stand ? Why 
do you not pull off your hats ? Is it respectful to 
stand covered in the presence of the sovereign of the 
country ? " 

To which they replied : 

" It was their practice so to do in the presence of 
their own sovereign, and they never uncovered their 
heads except in the performance of devotion to the 
Almighty." \ 

" We have no need of Quakers here," said the 
Graef; *' get out of my dominions — you shall go no 
further." 

And, though they mildly expostulated with him, 
he ordered his soldiers to take them away from his 
borders. 

The soldiers left them to travel through a dreary 
wood of three miles ; after which, they reached the 
walls of Duyeburg, but too late to enter the city, the 
gates being shut, and were therefore obliged to re- 
main in the fields till morning. They wrote a letter 
to the countess, encouraging her to continue in her 
belief, and endure with firmness the persecution 



3Uo DISCO VEKERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

•wliich had just begun. They also addressed a letter 
to the Graef, kindly expostulating with him, and wish- 
ing him all good in return for his unkindness. 

After three months thus spent in traveling and 
preaching, they returned to England, but not without 
a dangerous voyage. Once more united to his family, 
Penn enjoyed a few weeks rest from his labors. 

During the following years, 1678 and 1679, his time 
was fully employed in preaching and writing, in pub- 
lic controversies, and the continued management of 
New Jersey. He had, for a long time, however, had 
his thoughts fixed upon securing a tract of land in 
America, to which the persecuted Quakers might em- 
igrate and establish a form of government founded 
upon the strict principles of justice, truth and love 
to all mankind. In a letter to a friend, he said " that 
he desired to obtain the new land, that he may serve 
God's truth and people ; that an examj)le may be set 
up to the nations ; and that there was room in Ame- 
rica, but not in England, for such an holy experi- 
ment." Another object, too, which was predominant 
in his thoughts, was the conversion of the poor, wild 
Indians. 

A debt of sixteen thousand pounds being due him 
from the crown, he solicited its payment in a tract of 
land in America ; and his petition to Charles II. for 
the grant of it, after great opposition, on account of 
his being a Quaker, was finally acceded to. The idea 
of "a colony of Quakers among the savages of Ame- 
rica " was ridiculed, but gave way to the considera- 



WILLIAM PENN. 397 

tion of disposing of a sect about whom they had given 
themselves so much trouble. The king gladly ac- 
quiesced in the plan, not only to get rid of the debt, 
but to gratify Penn, for whom he had a high esteem. 
Upon hearing the news of his success, Penn hastened 
to the palace to make acknowledgments to his sove- 
reign. 

King Charles sat in his royal robes, in his stately 
and gorgeous apartments. The heavy, rich hangings 
of velvet, the ornamental gilding, the luxurious 
lounges, the soft, noiseless carpet — all gave an air of 
ease and majesty. A crowd of noblemen, in rich 
and elegant court dresses, surrounded the throne of 
the monarch, who from time to time received peti- 
tions of his subjects, or turned with a light jest to 
some of his favorites. The low hum that ran through 
the circle was hushed as William Penn was ushered 
in their presence, and they quickly made way for his 
approach. Without kneeling, or doffing his hat, he 
gracefully saluted the monarch, while all gazed upon 
his extremely plain garb — plainer for the contrast 
with the showy trappings of royalty — and noted the 
benignant and firm expression of his countenance, 
through which his soul gleamed in joyous emotion, 
so widely different from the traces of care, passion, 
and dissipation, that were strongly delineated in the 
face of the king. 

He was gi'aciously received, and Charles himself 
delivered the deed to his respected subject, with a 
few conditions. Penn accepted it, with simple, grate- 



398 DISCOVEKEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMEKIGA. 

ful thanks. He hastened awaj, and with trembling 
hands opened the precious document ; and, to his sur- 
prise, found his province named Pennsylvania, mean- 
ing " the woody land of Penn." Too modest to ac- 
cept the title, he hastened to the recorder, who hap- 
pened to be a Welshman, and begged him to change 
the name. 

" Well, then, what name would hur like to give to 
hur province ? " 

" New Wales," replied Penn. 

" But," rejoined the Welshman, " though hur 
should be well pleased to hear hur province called 
New Wales, yet hur has no business to alter the pre- 
sent name." 

Penn offered him twenty guineas to change it ; but 
being still refused, he repaired to the king, who re- 
plied that " he had given it a very good name, and 
should take the blame upon himself." 

Penn immediately published the liberal terms on 
which he would dispose of the land ; which, together 
with the freedom of religious worship, and the just 
and democratic principles upon which his constitu- 
tion was founded, caused great numbers to deter- 
mine to seek new homes in the Western wilds. Much 
excitement prevailed throughout Great Britain, and 
many of different denominations, confiding in the 
good name everywhere given to Penn, offered to share 
the good and ill awaiting them in the far-off land. 

Three ships, laden with adventurers, were soon sent 
off, and the fourth, in which Penn was to sail, was 



WILLIAM PENN. 399 

nearly ready. Hastening to London, he paid a fare- 
well visit to the king, and from thence returned to his 
wife and children. He was deeply pained to be so 
widely separated from them, and perhaps forever. 
But the constitution of the fair Gulielma was too 
frail and delicate, to attempt the hardships necessarily 
to be endured in a new home in the wilderness. With 
a tearful and tender parting, he bade them farewell, 
and committed them to the Almighty. Before leav- 
ing port, he addressed them an affectionate and beau- 
tiful letter, in which the spirit of love, hope, and faith, 
shone brightly forth. At length the ship Welcome 
set sail, and, with mingled emotions of pain and plea- 
sure, Penn saw the sliores of his native land fade 
away in the distance. But his spirit was brave, and 
fitted to battle with the obstacles that lay before him. 
After a voyage of six weeks, they neared the capes 
of Delaware Bay, and with shouts, and tears of joy, 
welcomed the sight of their adopted land. With 
wondering gaze, they looked upon the long, dark line 
of forest, and watched the narrowing bay till it be- 
came a majestic river, its waters gliding peacefully 
on between shores covered with rich verdure, and in 
the distance the vast woods sweeping away in their 
unmolested grandeur, far as the eye could reach. The 
ship, with its joyous burden, glided over the quiet 
waters, till, in the clear sunlight, they beheld the lit- 
tle town of ^Newcastle, nestled on the borders of a 
wide plain. As they neared it, the inhabitants gath- 
ered on the shore and gave ""iiem a heartfelt greeting. 



400 DISCOVERERS AlTD PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

With gratitude to God for their safe-keeping, they 
landed for a few weeks, and then resumed their voy- 
age up the river. After sailing about forty miles, they 
reached a beautiful river, that, winding in graceful 
curves, poured its silvery waters into the Delaware, 
through a mouth nearly hidden in tlie high, waving 
grass. Therefore, the Dutch called it Schuylkill ; the 
Indian name was Manajung. 

A little further up the river the waters wound gen- 
tly into a half-circle, leaving a mossy, green island on 
the right. On the other side, the shores were pleas- 
antly elevated, and studded with huge old oaks that 
cast a wide shadow upon the sunny banks. Beyond, 
lay two Indian villages, close to the water's edge — 
one named Coaquanoc, the other, Shackamaxon, upon 
the site where Philadelphia now stands. 

Soon as the ship anchored, a boat was sent to the 
shore, which was already crowded with the half- 
frightened natives. The interpreter delivered Penn's 
message, that he would have a "grand talk with his 
red brethren the next day, when the sun was at the 
half-way house in the sky." 

Accordingly, the next day, a great assemblage of 
Indian warriors and their people gathered to wait 
the coming of the pale-faces. Some stood in groups 
along the shores, watching with curious looks the 
great ship that had sailed up their river, like a giant 
swan ; while others brandished their weapons and 
tried their skill in arrow-shooting. The adventurers 
ooked with keen eyes and trembling hearts upon 



WILLIAM PENN. 401 

the strange, dusky forms that filled the woods in 
such warlike array ; but Penn with bold firmness en- 
tered the boat that was to convey them to the shore, 
and was soon followed by his companions. 

Curiosity overcame stoicism, and the Indians crowd- 
ed about the group of new-comers, examining their 
apparel with eager wonder ; for, though they had seen 
the Dutch settlers, they had never beheld the strange 
garb of the Quaker. They were taken by surprise, 
too, in seeing them unarmed ; and, savage as they 
were, appreciated the bravery and good will with 
which their guests had thrown themselves among them, 
unprotected. 

Some weeks before, commissioners had preceded 
Penn, bought the land of the sachems, made a treaty 
of peace with them, and told them to be in readiness 
to ratify the treaty upon his arrival. The appointed 
time had come ; and as soon as they had welcomed 
" Father Onas," as he was styled, they repaired to 
a wide-spreading elm tree, that reared its rich foliage 
to a towering height, and threw its branches to a far- 
reaching circle, that shielded them completely from 
the sun. Beneath this old forest tree, the chief sa- 
chem and Penn approached each other. Penn was 
distinguished in dress from his companions only by a 
light blue sash of silk net-work about his waist, and 
held in his hand a roll of parchment, containing the 
confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity. 
On his right hand was his relative, Col. Markham, 



26 



402 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AJIEEICA. 

who was also his secretary, and behind him followed 
the remainder of his friends. 

Some presents and articles of merchandise were 
spread on the ground before them. The chief sa- 
chem then bomid upon his swarthy brow a chaplet, 
to which a horn was attached, and which was the 
emblem of superiority. Immediately the Indiana 
dropped their bows and arrows, and in silence gath- 
ered themselves around their chiefs, in the form 
of a half-moon, on the ground — the warriors in the 
front circles, the young men behind them in the same 
order, and further back the squaws and their children. 
As soon as stillness prevailed, Penn addressed them 
in an eloquent speech, full of benevolence and kind- 
ness ; and when he had finished, he advanced, and 
placing the roll of parchment in the hand of the 
chief who wore the chaplet, he told him and his bro- 
ther sachems " to preserve it carefully for three gen- 
erations, that his children might know what had 
passed between them, just as if he had remained him- 
self with them to repeat it." The chiefs pledged 
themselves to " live in love with him and his white 
children as long as the sun and moon gave light ; " 
and replied to his address in words which are indis- 
tinctly brought to us, being transmitted only by tra- 
dition. But the words of " Father Onas " were nev- 
er forgotten, for the Indians were ever ready and elo- 
quent upon the theme of his goodness. The treaty 
was sacredly preserved, and as late as 1722 was shown 
by several tribes to Governor Keith, at a conference. 



WILLIAM PENN. 403 

The old elm tree was always guarded from destruc- 
tion ; and so much was it venerated, that, during the 
Ke volution, when the surrounding trees were cut down 
for fire-wood, a sentinel was placed under this, that 
not a branch should be broken. But it was finally 
blown down, and the wood was made into cups and 
various articles, to be preserved as memorials. 

A monument now occupies the spot, but is referred 
to by an English authoress as " a neglected outcast." 
She says : " It is in a timber-yard, in the dirtiest 
suburb of the town, and looks like a gate-post, being 
a plain stone obelisk, about five or six feet high, with 
an inscription upon it." 

After the conclusion of the treaty, Penn went up 
the Delaware, to see a mansion, then building for him, 
under the direction of Colonel Markham. It was de- 
lightfully situated on the banks of the Delaware, a 
few miles below the falls of Trenton, and upon a 
"treble island, the river running three times round 
it." The building was large, and neatly elegant, a 
spacious audience-hall being among its apartments. 
This wild and beautiful retreat among the woods and 
waterfalls, was called Pennsbury, and was intended 
for the home of his loved wife and children, when 
they should join him. 

He next selected the site of Philadelj^hia, the " city 
of Brotherly Love," upon the spot where the Indian 
villages stood. It was surveyed, and laid out in 
streets, which retain their names and places to the 
present day. Busy hands toiled in the young city, 



401 DISCO VEEEES AND PIONEEES OF AlVIEEICA. 

and soon lionse after house started np like magic, 
though rough and unseemly. Before tlie end of three 
months, twenty-three ships arrived, bringing more 
than two thousand persons, who were scattered 
throughout the province, and made hasty prepara- 
tions for the approaching winter. Those who could 
not provide themse.ves shelter, were obliged to dig 
caves in the banks of the river, and remain in these 
strange habitations till the opening of spring. But, 
freed from persecution, they were happy even there. 
Time passed on, and the city grew prosperously. 
Penn remained nearly two years, during which, 
peace, good-will, and prosperity, jorevailed. But he 
soon received letters from England, urging his return, 
that he might use his influence at court in preventing 
the persecutions, which were more bitter than ever 
against the Quakers. Before leaving, he made trea- 
ties with many tribes of Indians, and feared not to 
leave his colony unprotected, for he confided in their 
friendship, and not without reason ; they looked upon 
him with a reverence and strength of attachment 
which never died out. 

Bidding farewell to the English, Dutch, and Swe- 
dish settlers, who equally regretted his departure, he 
set sail in the ship Endeavor, for England, where he 
arrived after a voyage of seven weeks. Once more 
in the midst of his family, after so long a separation, 
he enjoyed a short repose from his cares. 

Charles II. died at this time, 1685, and was suc- 
ceeded by the Duke of York, his brother, who be- 



WILLIAM PENN. 405 

came James II. This determined "William Penn to 
renew bis friendship with him, hoping to secure his 
leniency towards the Quakers, as he believed him to 
be a friend to liberty of conscience. Accordingly, 
he removed with his family to Kensington, that he 
might be near the king. His time was almost en- 
tirely employed in benefiting the Society of Friends, 
avoiding politics, except when called upon to use his 
influence in allaying some difficulty. He was so 
highly esteemed by James II. that none could so 
readily obtain access as himself, and there were none 
whose petitions were so readily granted. Thomas 
Clarkson quotes the following words of Gerard 
Croese : 

" William Penn was greatly in favor with the 
King — the Quakers' sole patron at court, on whom 
the hateful eyes of his enemies were intent. The 
King loved him as a singular and entire friend, and 
imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels. 
He often honored him with his company in private, 
discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not 
for one but for many hours together, and delaying to 
hear the best of his peers, who, at the same time, were 
waiting for an audience ; for which they told him, 
when with Penn he forgot his nobles. The King 
made no other reply than that ' Penn always talked 
ingeniously, and that he heard him willingly.' Penn, 
being so highly favored, acquired thereby a number 
of friends. Those who formerly knew him, when they 
had any favor to ask at court, came to, courted, and 



406 DISCOVERERS AJSTD PIONEERS OF AlVIEEICA. 

entreated Penn to promote their several requests. 
He refused none of his friends any reasonable office he 
could do for them ; but was ready to serve them all, 
but more especially the Quakers. Thus they ran to 
Penn without intermission, as their only pillar and 
support, who always conversed with and received 
then cheerfully, and effected their business by his 
interest and eloquence. Hence, his house and gates 
were daily thronged by a numerous train of clients 
and suppliants, desiring to present their addresses to 
his majesty. There were sometimes two hundred or 
more. When the carrying on of these affairs re- 
quired money for writings, he so discreetly managed 
matters, that out of his own, which he had in abun- 
dance, he liberally discharged many emergent ex- 
penses." 

The king's extraordinary favor towards him brought 
him many bitter enemies ; and even those whom he 
had kindly assisted, joined in the cry now raised 
against him, of being a Papist and Jesuit. His 
wide views of liberty of conscience led him to defend 
the Papist as readily as the Quaker ; and therefore 
he was suspected, even by his own sect, of endorsing 
their opinions. His intimacy with the king, who 
was considered a Papist also, led the mass to believe 
their united intention was the subversion of the re- 
ligion of the kingdom. For more than a year the 
hue and-cry continued ; but these suspicions were re- 
moved when, by his constant efforts and persuasions, 
he finally obtained from the king a public proclama- 



WILLIAM PENN. 407 

tion, granting liberty of conscience to all sects, and 
liberating from prison all who had been confined on 
account of their religious belief. About fifteen hun- 
dred Quakers were thus restored to their families, 
some of whom had been imprisoned for years. 

During several succeeding years, various causes 
combined to render Penn unpopular, and he was un- 
justly accused on repeated occasions. In 1688, James 
II. was obliged to abandon the throne and flee to 
France, and was succeeded by William, Prince of 
Orange. Penn regretted the loss of his friend, and 
during his exile continued a correspondence with 
him, which gave rise to suspicions of a conspiracy. 
His letters were intercepted, and he was twice ar- 
rested and brought to trial, but no proof whatever 
could be obtained against him ; and his candid and 
eloquent defence secured his release on both occa- 
sions. He now retired from court, and returned to 
"Worminghurst with his family, where his time was 
spent in the occupations of his ministry. 

Finding himself free, he now turned his thoughts 
to America, and commenced preparations for a voy- 
age, intending to take his family with him. This was 
not to be. The cup of bitterness had been but tasted 
— he had yet to drain it to the dregs. But he de- 
pended upon his God ; and his strong soul, that had 
60 long struggled for freedom, though bowed low, was 
the more purely chastened, and remained unbroken 
through the long struggle'. 

He had nearly finished his arrangements for the 



408 DISCOVEEEKS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

voyage, when lie was arrested by a proclamation, 
wliicli included others of rank, as conspirators in fa- 
vor of James II., and issued in consequence of an ex- 
pected invasion by the French. Penn was thrown 
into prison, and, after some weeks, being brought to 
trial, was honorably acquitted, as before. 

Once more he continued his preparations for going 
to America, and had appointed a day to sail. At 
this time George Fox died, and Penn being present at 
the funeral, addressed nearly two thousand persons, 
who were assembled, thus paying the last respect in 
his power to his deceased friend. His enemies were 
not idle ; for, even while attending the funeral, mes- 
sengers were sent to arrest him, on a charge brought 
against him by a person named Fuller, who after- 
wards proved to be a cheat and imj)oster. 

With suppressed emotions of pain and indignation, 
at this unjust charge, Penn sent his ships, already la- 
den with emigrants, to Philadelphia, but he himself 
was obliged to remain behind. His affairs in Amer- 
ica were greatly entangled during his long absence ; 
and as he had been constantly expending his fortune 
for the benefit of his province, without receiving a 
farthing in return, he began to suffer embarrassments 
in consequence. But he was obliged to submit to a 
prolonged absence, being unwilling to leave England 
with a stain resting upon his character. For more 
than three years he remained in complete retirement, 
having taken private lodgings in London. During 
these years, sorrow upon sorrow continued to crush 



WILLIAM PENN. 409 

him to the earth. Banished from society by false 
charges, obliged to continue absent from his disor- 
dered colony, unable longer to advance means for its 
improvement, the government of it taken from him 
by the king, his hopes of establishing a model state 
defeated, the displeasure of many of his own sect in- 
curred without just cause, and, more than all else, 
oppressed by the near approach of his wife's death — 
none but a Christian, and a man relying upon his own 
innocence, could have endured such an accumulation 
of affliction with mild and hopeful resignation. 

Sitting by the bedside of his dying wife, in a plain 
and obscure retreat, and endeavoring to infuse his 
own hope and cheerfulness into her mind, so bur- 
dened with anxiety on his account, he received the 
glad news of his complete restoration to society, and 
the removal of all charges against him. Joy and sor- 
row were mingled then, during the last hours of his 
beloved companion. Peacefully and happily she 
breathed away her life, and her pure spirit fled to its 
joyous home without a cloud shadowing its departure. 

Penn returned with his three motherless children 
to their former home. He remained with them for a 
length of time, during which he employed himself in 
writing, and in the exercise of his ministry, having 
been completely reconciled with his Society. He 
was more venerated than ever by them, and they en- 
deavored by every method to recompense their for- 
mer unkindness and injustice. The succeeding year, 
1694, the government of Pennsylvania was restored 
R 



410 DISCOVERERS AlfD PIONEERS OF AilEKICA. 

to him by King William, in an honorable and grati- 
fying manner. For two years longer he continued 
preaching, writing, and exerting his influence at 
court, for the benefit of the Quakers. 

In 1696, he married Hannah Callowhill, the daugh- 
ter of an eminent merchant of London, who belonged 
to the Society of Friends, and returned to Worming- 
hurst, where his family had remained since the death 
of their mother. A new trial awaited him here. His 
eldest son, Springett Penn, then in his twenty-first 
year, who had long been suffering from disease, died 
a few weeks after his return. His genius and uncom- 
mon virtues had made him very dear to his father 
from childhood, and his striking resemblance to his 
mother, in person and character, caused his loss to be 
more deeply felt. 

Penn was little from home during the same year, 
except on the occasion of a visit to the Czar of Mus- 
covy, afterwards Peter the Great, then on a visit to 
England. The Czar was very curious to know why 
the Quakers did not take off their hats, and of what 
uhe to their country a people could be who would not 
fight. He was so much interested in Penn's explana- 
tion of their doctrines, that, whenever opportunity 
offered, during his travels, he attended Quaker meet- 
ings, and commended th^ir views, by saying that 
"whoever could live according to such doctrines, 
would be happy." 

In 1699, Penn once more made preparations to re- 
turn to America. Taking his wife and children, he 



WILLIAM PENN. 411 

embarked at the Isle of "Wight, and after a tedious 
voyage of three months, and an absence of sixteen 
years, he arrived once more in the land where his 
hopes and aims were centered. He was welcomed 
with acclamations of joy. .Proceeding to Philadel- 
phia, he immediately called the Assembly, and has- 
tened to restore order to the government, which had 
gone sadly amiss during the long years of his absence. 
The severity of the season allowed but a short session. 
Penn, therefore, with his family, retired to his home 
at Pennbury, that stood alone on the banks of the 
Delaware, amidst the luxuriant forests, whose still- 
ness was yet unbroken by the busy sounds of civili- 
zation. King' Charles and his courtiers would not 
have wondered now at his audacity in carrying his 
Quaker principles even among the wild savages of 
America, if they could have beheld the strange and 
uncouth, but sincere, expressions of joy and gratitude, 
with which the Indian warriors greeted their unfor- 
gotten " Father Onas." He received the sachems in 
the audience hall of his mansion, and renewed the 
treaties of years gone by, which, though not ratified 
by an oath, were faithfully kept. They told him they 
" never fii^st broke their covenants with other people ; 
for," as said one of them, smiting his hand upon his 
head three times, " they did not make them there, in 
their head ; but," smiting his hand three times on his 
breast, said " they made them there, in their hearts." 
Time and trouble had whitened the flowing locks of 
the venerated Penn, but peace and thankfulness light- 



412 DISCOVERERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

ed his face, as he rested in his old oaken arm-chair, 
amidst the Indian chiefs gathered around him, with 
their rude but generous offerings, and welcoming him 
to the land of their fathers ; and his heart beat quick 
and high with the hope of bringing them to Chris- 
tianity and civilization. He gratified them, too, by 
returning visits, and witnessing sports, and partaking 
of their simple food, while seated upon the mats and 
highly wrought feather mantles, which they spread in 
honor of his presence. He never mingled with them 
without leaving the " good seed of the word." Their 
gratitude and affection knew no bounds, for he had 
treated them with kindness, and given them equal 
privileges with the other people of his province. 

The second year after his arrival, he made arrange- 
ments for the benefit and protection of the Indians 
and negro slaves. A few of the latter had been im- 
ported in 1682, soon after the planting of the colony, 
and continued to be brought. In 1688, the Quakers, 
at a yearly meeting, resolved " that the buying, sell- 
ing, and holding men in slavery, was inconsistent with 
the tenets of the Christian religion." They, therefore, 
began to treat them differently, considering them part 
of tlieir own families, giving them religious instruc- 
tion, and admitting them to worship in the meeting- 
houses with themselves. Penn, during this second 
stay in America, in order to secure the welfare of the 
slaves and their final freedom, by a legislative act, 
drew up bills to that effect, and placed them before 
the Assembly. But, to his surprise and disappoint- 



WILLIAM PENN. 413 

ment, the Assembly refused to pass them. After two 
years of constant effort to improve his co.ony and 
benefit the Indians, he received letters from Eng- 
land, which informed him of jealousies existing there, 
and of an intention of dissolving the various govern- 
ments in America, and bringing them under the en- 
tire control of the king. But Parliament had been 
solicited to defer their proceedings till the arrival of 
Penn, " to answer for himself, as one of those whose 
character the bill affected." 

With deepest regret, Penn and his family took leave 
of his people, and with sorrow and anxiety, bade fare- 
well to the Indian chiefs, who had assembled at Phil- 
adelphia, to pay him a last visit — the news having 
gone far and near among the swift-footed race, that 
their white father was going away to his own country. 
Assuring them he had done all in his power to se- 
cure their welfare, and giving and receiving the prom- 
ise of continued friendship, they exchanged presents, 
and parted. The Indians returned to their forest 
homes, in silent sorrow for their lost benefactor, and 
Penn launched upon the deep, and left behind him 
the loved land he was never more to see. 

A voyage of six weeks brought him again to the 
shores of England. But, upon his arrival, he found 
that the bill, which had caused him so much anxiety, 
had been dropped entirely, and, therefore, his voyage 
had been to no purpose. 

Queen Anne succeeded to the throne about this 
time. Penn was held in high esteem by her, and she 



414: DISCOVEKERS AND PIONEERS OF AMERICA. 

frequently held long conversations with him about his 
occupations in America. He now again resided in 
Kensington, but his time was mostly spent in writing, 
preaching, and publishing various works. 

In 1707, six years after his return from America, 
he was involved in a law-suit with the executors of his 
steward. Ford, who had deceived -and defrauded him 
to a large amount. This was pending for a year or 
more, part of which time he was obliged to live within 
the rules of the Fleet ; which probably led Burke, in 
a speech of his, to state that William Penn died in 
Fleet prison. To get rid of this embarrassment, Penn 
was obliged to mortgage his province of Pennsylvania 
for six thousand pounds, which released him from his 
difficulties. 

In 1712, he resolved to part with his province, 
and offered it to government for the sum of twenty 
thousand pounds, being but four thousand more than 
the debt for which he had accepted it, when it was 
an unbroken wilderness. His plan was not executed, 
however, on account of his serious illness. His last 
troubles had broken the spirit that had so long and 
so manfully struggled against the most severe trials. 
Old age had come upon him, and stolen the vigor of 
his prime, and he could no longer battle with the 
storms of life. Apoplectic fits continued to impair 
his strength, and obscure the brilliancy of his mind. 
His memory became indistinct, and he could converse 
but upon the one subject of his God. Everything 
else lost its reality and interest to him, and upon 



WILLIAM PENN. 415 

this theme, only, was he eloquent in his last days. 
He forgot all else but God and eternity, and with 
these glorious thoughts brightening his dying hours, 
he passed away early on the morning of the fifth of 
July, 1718, at the advanced age of sixty-eight. 

His work was finished, and he had indeed " set up 
an example to the nations." "While Virginia was suf- 
fering the horrors of Indian massacres, famine, and 
disturbances of every description, Pennsylvania re- 
mained in tranquil repose in the very midst of the 
savage bands who meted out destruction and death 
everywhere but among those who slept free from fear, 
beneath their very tomahawks, and without forts, senti- 
nels or soldiers to protect them. They could safely tra- 
verse the whole extent of forest, alone and unarmed — 
their simple Quaker garb being a passport to the kind- 
ness and hospitality of the grateful savages. The differ- 
ent eff'ects of peaceful and warlike measures are now 
strikingly contrasted ; for " Captain Smith's city, (old 
Jamestown,) built by violence and blood, is now swept 
away from the face of the earth, scarcely a broken 
tombstone remaining, tc tell where it stood. But 
Philadelphia, established by justice and brotherly 
kindness, though founded a long time after the other, 
has grown up to be one of the glories of this western 
world." 

This fair city, with the surrounding province, was 
left by Penn's last will to his second wife and her 
heirs, together with eleven others. His estates in 
England and Ireland were given to William and Le- 



4:16 DISCO VEEEES AND PIONEEES OF ASIEEIOA. 

titia, the surviving children of his first wife, Gulielma 
— that being considered a far more valuably property 
at that time. 

Ko where, in the early annals of the American States, 
can be found a more complete character, or a life 
more closely modeled after the Divine Exemplar, 
than that of Penn. His name is a watchword of 
peace, and a tower of moral strength. His course, 
like that of such modern representatives of his sen- 
timents as the noble Hopper, is a testimony to the 
victorious power of justice, truth and love. Even 
the Pilgrims came with the sword in one hand, and 
the Bible in the other ; and, accordingly, many of 
them, and of their descendants, found that they who 
take the sword shall perish by it. The triumphs of 
force and fraud are destined to grow dim, or only 
hateful, in the memory of the world. The certain 
conquests of Christian love will shine down the long 
avenue of time with an ever brightening glory. 

THE END. 



J. C. DERBY S PUBLICATIONS. 



THE LIFE AND SAYINOS OF MRS. 
PARTINGTON, 

AND OTHERS OF THE FAMILY. 

BY B. P. SHILLABEB. 

1 elegant 12mo., 43 Illustrations. Price $1 25. 

"'Hang the books!' said an appreciative examiner, to whom we handed a copy for 
Inspection, ' I can't afford to buy them, but I can't do without this ;' and laughing until 
the tears ran, he drew forth the purchase-money. It is just so, reader; you can't do 
without tliis book. It is so full of genial humor and pure human nature that your wife 
and children must have it, to be able to realize how much enjoyment may be shut up 
within the lids of a book. It is full of human kindness, rich in humor, alive with wit, 
mingled here and there with those faint touches of melancholy which oft-times touch 
Mirth's border3."-7-<7Zm<07i Courant- 

"She has caused many a lip to relax from incontinent primness into the broadest kind 
of a grin — has given to many a mind the material for an odd but not useless revery — has 
scooped out many a cove on the dry shores of newspaper reading, and invited the mariner 
reader to tarry and refresh himself. ' Ruth Partington ' is a Christian and a patriot. 
Such a book wiU go everywhere — be welcomed like a retui-ned exile — do good, and cease 
not." — Buffalo Exjji-ess. 

" If it is true that one grows fat who laughs, then he who reads this book will fat up, 
even though he may be one of Pharaoh's 'lean kine.' That it does one good to laugh, 
nobody doubts. We have shook and shook while running through this charming volume, 
nntU it has seemed as though we had increased in weight some fifty gounds, more or 
less." — Massachusetts Life Boat. 

" A regular Yankee institution is Mrs. Partington, and well deserves the compliment of 
a book devoted to her sayings and doings. She is here brought before the public, which 
is 80 greatly indebted to her unique vocabulary for exhaustiegs stores of fun, in a style 
worthy of her distinguished character." — N. T. Trihu7ie. 

•' There is a world of goodness in her blessed heart, as there is a universe of quiet fun 
in the book before us. ' A gem of purest ray serene ' glitters on almost every page. 
Everybody should buy the book; everybody, at least, who loves genial, quiet wit, which 
never wounds, but always heals where it strikes." — Indepmident Democrat. 

"It is crammed full of her choicest sayings, and rings from title page to 'finis' with 'r.- 
unconscious wit. It is just the book for one to read at odd moments — to take C- the cars 
or home of an evening — or to devour in one's ofiBce of a rainy day. It is an excellent 
antidote for the blues." — Oneida Herald. 

" Housewives who occasionally get belated about their dinner, should have it lying 
round. It will prevent a deal of grumbling from their ' lords,' by keeping them so well 
employed as to make them forget their dinner." — New Hampshire Telegraph. 

" Her ' sayings ' have gone the world over, and given her an immortality that will glitter 
and sparkle among the records of genius wherever wit and humor shall be aporeciated." 
— Worcester Palladiwrn. J 



J. e. derby's publications. 



THK GREEN MOUNTAIN TRAVELLERS' 
ENTERTAINMENT. 

BY JO SI AH BARNES, SEN. 

12mo. $1. 

" They will be read with earnest sympathy and heartfelt approval by all who enjoy 
quiet pictures of the homely, yet often charming scenes of daily life. The style well 
befits the thoughts expressed, and is equally simple and 'mpressive. We have found in 
these pages better than a ' traveller's entertainment '— one which will mingle with the 
pleasant recollections of a home fireside." — Providence Daily Post. 

" If any of our friends wish to get hold of a book written in a style of pure and beau- 
tiful English, that reminds one of Irving continually ; a book rich with inventions of the 
marvellous, and yet abounding in sweet humanities and delicate philosophies — a book 
that will not tire and cannot oflfend, let them go to a bookstore and buy ' The Old Inn ; 
or, the Travellers' Entertainment,' by Josiah Barnes, Sen. It will pay the iead«r well." 
— Springjield {Mass.) Rcpuhlic.an. 

"It should be praise enough to say that the author reminds one occasionally oi 
Irving." — Philadelphia Bulletin. 

" Unless we err greatly, a volume so markedly original in its outline and features wil) 
attract a large share of attention." — Boston Evening Gazette. 

" This is a very pleasant book. The plan of it, if not new, is just as well carried out. 
' Five 'r six 'r half-a-dozeu ' travellers meet at an indifferent tavern in an indifferent 
part of Vermont, upon a seriously unpleasant day, and to pass away the dull hours, they 
fall to story-telling. The record of their performances in that behalf is made up into the 
volume ' above entitled.' So agreeable became the diversion that not only the evening 
of the first day, but as the following morning was conveniently stormy, the second day 
la consunied in similar diversions. Those who read the book will agree with us, that a 
Btormy riay and a country inn, with such alleviation, presents no very great hardship to 
the traveller, unless his business is particularly urgent. We commend the book to those 
■*ho like a f'casant story, pleasantly told." — Budget, Troy, N. Y. 

" Under the above title we have several interesting stories as told by the various cha- 

icters at tne fireside of a comfortable, old-fashioned inn, to while away the long hom'S 

' slorra, bj which they were detained The Little Dry Man's, the supposed Lawyer's, 

vv.i the Qnaiier's stories are all worth listening to. They are well told and entertain the 

fv-ider." — Bangor Journal. 

•'This I? a series of stories, supposed to be related to while away the time, in an old 
inn, where a party of travellers are storm-stayed, consisting of the ' Little Dry Man's 
Story,' the ' Supposed Lawyer's Story," 'Incidents of a Day at the Inn,' the 'Quaker's 
Story,' and ' Ellen's Grave.' The stories are well told. There is a charming simplicity 
in the author's styl& — all the more delightful, because, now-a-days, simplicity of lan- 
piintre is a rarity with authors. It is a book to take up at any moment, and occupy a 
ki.^ure liour — to l.:vy aside, and take Mp again and again. We commend its tone, and 
the object of the auvlior. It is a pleasant oompaaion ou a country journey." — N. J 
Oisputch. 



J. G. TIEP.BY S PUBLICATIONS. 



EXTRAORDINAKY PUBLICATION! 



MY COURTSHIP AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

BY HENRY WIEOFF. 
A true account of the Author's Adventures in England, Switzerland, and 
Italy, with Miss J. C. Gamble, of Portland Place, London. 1 elegant 
12mo. Price, in cloth, $1 25. 

The extraordinary sensation produced in literary circles by Mr. Wilioff's charming 
romance of real life, is exhausting edition after edition of his wonderful book. From 
lengthy I'eviews, among several hundred received, we extract the following brief notices 
of the press : 

" We prefer commending the book as beyond question the most amusing of the season, 
and we commend it without hesitation, because the moral is an excellent one." — Albion. 

"With unparalleled candor he has here unfolded the particulars of the intrigue, taking 
the whole world into his confidence — ' bearing his heart on his sleeve for daws to peck 
at' — and, in the dearili of public amusements, presenting a piquant nine days' wonder 
for the recreation of society." — N. Y. Tribune. 

" The work is very amusing, and it is written in such a vein that one cannot refrain 
from frequent bursts of laughter, even when the Chevalier is in positions which might 
claim one's sympathy." — Boston Evening Gazette. 

" A positive autobiography, by a man of acknowledged fashion, and an associate of 
nobles and princes, telling truly how he courted and was coquetted by an heiress in high 
life, is likely to be as popular a singularity in the way of literature as could well be thought 
of." — Home Journal. 

" The ladies are sure to devour it. It is better and more exciting than any modern 
romance, as it is a detail of facts, and every page proves conclusively that the plain, 
unvarnished tale of truth is often stranger than fiction." — Baltimore Dispatch. 

" The book, therefore, has all the attractions of a tilt of knight-errants — with this addi- 
tion, that one of the combatants is a woman — a species of heart-endowed Amazon." — 
Newark Daily Mercury. 

" If you read the first chapter of the volume, you are in for ' finis,' and can no mor« 
stop without the consent of your will than the train of cars can stop without the consent 
of the engine." — Worcester Palladium. 

" Seriously, there is not so original, piquant and singular a book in American literature 
Its author is a sort of cross between Fielding, Chesterfield, and Rochefoucault." — Boston 
Chronicle. 

" With the exception of Rosseau's Confessions, we do not remember ever to have heard 
of any such self-anatomization of love and the lover." — N. Y. Etrpress. 

"The book has cost us a couple of nights' sleep; and we have no doubt it has cost its 
author and principal subject a good many more." — N. Y. Evening Mirror. 

*' The work possesses aU the charm and fascination of a continuous romance." — N. Y. 
J&ttrnai of Commerce. 



J. C. DERBY S PUBLICATIONS. 



THE GREAT DELUSION OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 



SPIRIT-RAPPINO UNVKILED 1 

AN EXPOSE OF THE ORIGIN, HISTORY, THEOLOGY, AND PHILOSOPHT 

OP CERTAIN COMMUNnCATIONS WITH THE SPIRIT WORLD, 

BY MEANS OF " SPIRIT-RAPPING," " MEDIUM 

WRITING," &C. 

BY THE REV. E. MATISON, A. M. 

With Illustrations. A new edition, with an Appendix, containing much 

additional matter. One 12mo vol., price 75 cents. 

" This book is suflScient to make any man cry, if it did not make him laugh. And it 
has made us laugh heartily, not the book itself, or its style, but the subject as it stands 
divested of the miserable, but cunning accessories which charlatans have wound round 
it. The subject is completely dissected, body and bones, if anything ' spiritual ' can be 
Raid to have those human necessaries. It is strangled, torn asunder, dragged like the 
less hideous Caliban through briars, and torn on the inquisitorial wheel of the author's 
research, shook out like dust from a Dutchman's pipe, swept down like so much cobweb, 
riddled like the target of a crack company, and altogether ' used up ' — in fact, in the 
words of Sir Charles Coldstream, there is ' nothing in it.' The illustrations are very 
humorous and numerous, and the printing excellent." — National Democrat. 

•' Mr. Matison attacks the subject at its advent in Rochester ; scatters the ' Fox ' aud 
' Fish ' families to the winds with his pertinent reasoning and well-directed sarcasm; 
marks its progress, upsetting more theories than the spirits ever did tables, and by 
copious extracts from noted 'spiritual' publications, shows the pernicious tendencies of 
' the new philosopliy,' exhibiting more deep-laid villainy than even its most inveterate 
enemies had supposed it capable of possessing." — Worcester Palladiwm. 

" It is decidedly the best thing we have seen on the subject. It is a book of ke*n logic- 
withering satire, and unanswerable facts. He has sti'ipped to absolute nudity, this s.ys- 
tem of delusion and infidelity ; showing its abettors to be composed of knaves and 
fools ! — deceivers and deceived. Let it pass round." — Pittsburgh Christian Advocate. 

" We can only heartily and confidently recommend it to our readers, as thoroughly 
' unveiling ' the latest humbug of our day, showing it up in all its nakedness and defor- 
mity, and leaving us nothing more to desire on the sulyect of which it treats." — N. Y, 
Church Advocate and Journal. 

" This ts a well printed volume of some 200 pages. The author Is, of course, a 
disbeliever in modern spiritualism, ajid the book is the result of his investigations of the 
BO-called phenomenon. It gives a history of the rise of spirit knocking, in connection 
with the Fox family, and its progress to medium writing, table tipping, &c. The writer 
seems to have performed the task he gave himself with considerable thoroughness and 
great industry. We commend the book to the perusal of those who, unwilling to give up 
common sense and the teachings of reason and philosophy, have, nevei'theless, fonnd in 
the demonstrations of so-called Spiritualism much that they have been unable to account 
for except upon the theory of the ' Spiritualists ' themselves." — TYoy Whig. 



